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Tell me again about the rabbits...

'Seem to be having an increasingly weird week -- one of those spreads of time which can encourage a body to wonder if it's everyone else who's going a little bit madder than usual (which would explain a few things), or merely his six-foot invisible rabbit and himself. The fact that Catch-22 has been my chief bit of reading material for the week has helped to elicit a suspicion that my social reality is somehow being constructed by my reading habits in direct consequence of a flight of whimsy on the part of Descartes' demon.

'Shall endeavour not to read any depressing tales of potato-less Irish woe until the matter is cleared up some.

On a brighter note, the multi-day DDoS assault against LJ has let off. As well today's lecture -- Rumi: On the Ocean of Non-Existence by Professor Mohammed Rustom -- on the theological place of love and non-duality in Sufi mysticism was quite good. Managed to get in twenty minutes of sitting beforehand. It also occurred to me some time back that Fiona would be sixteen now, going on seventeen this coming January. Hopefully things have turned out reasonably well. The trudge through B&E has prevailed into the forest of Angst and into section 42.

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