Indeed it can, my dear sinister. Provided the water is hot enough, which restrict the scheduling time to the hours when the heater is on (or, otherwise, would require that little bit of extra effort in the effort to turning the boiler on, which can be too much. Well, yes, I am a lazy gett) and the bubble foam is thick enough as well, which would, on the other hand, imply the presence of some foamy soap in any of the bathroom cupboard (stealing from the flatmate is inherently allowed). Given those conditions, which are no more than a obvious bunch of banality, all that remains is to splash into the water. Now the point is how a long a while is allowed to be? Indeed the length of the while is still rather undefined. Of course if you mind it and nobody´s life would be in a serious danger if the while is a little bit too long or short, except one would decide not to get out of the place and in the same time haven´t found someone else bring him food and stuff. Although recording things in terms of length weight and any other dimension is not really a matter of poetry, this seems to be the mood I´ve been on through the past week end. But It´s Ok, I´m lazy enough to allowed a set of incomplete pieces of information into my archive. One of the still missing ones is how really long the while can be consider. But that I can wait for the answer for a little while indeed. Though I think It can be catalogued as `quite a long while´. Living on my own has definitely boosted my tendency of spending the rather vicious habit of spending a terrible amount of time (read a while) in the Sunday bath ritual, eventually extending it to a series of day during the so-called working days. My Previous flat mate found most of my habits pretty strange, nor that I hadn´t thought the same of his own, but for some unclear reason, which I might understand but I don´t, the thing he considered on top of strangeness was the fact that I like spend some time submerged in foam and hot water. OK. OK. That time should have been a little why, an . If it really is, well, I don´t really mind. Indeed it could even be a kind of compliment. You rude flat mate! But apparently what screwed he up was the fact I could wake up as early as six in the morning to let the water flow to the get warm right to the right point (I, of course, like circularity), and take the control of the "magic room" before any of the troop of people sharing the flat would have been reached by the idea of invading the space. Not the outer space. Not yet al least. Well, I would admit that on Sunday morning no one would wake up at six, but you never know. Some one can. I can admit it can be a bit bizarre, but it is all connected to waking up a bit early in the morning, isn´t it? Well, lets´ say that you can have your first pint earlier then. Very good!! Did he said I was girlish? I don´t mind though.... This placing-everything-at-the-right-place impulse which has taken control of me in the last few days has also moved me to made load of stuff around the house and eventually ending up doing some cleaning that the place indeed deserved. This reminded me some kind of things animals do moved by some hidden instinct which ethnologist called parental care, or something like that. Especially this might be connected with some behaviour the birds exhibit when they build up their nest and that is preceding in time the `advent´ of chicks or whatever they progeny will be. Now given I don´t think there is any advent of progeny which will bright up my existence in the near future, at least, but some evidence suggest it can´t be a likely case in a future too near. But apart from that, I´m diverging (I think I am divergent, actually), the nest restoring has involved cleaning the curtains, which ahs discovered their mother-pearl secret colour (I win a bet with the neighbour which thought t! hey were dark gull grey), cleaning the kitchen cupboard, even cleaning the kitchen glasses (the fact that I am concentrating on the kitchen is no good sign, I might be I am actually planing for a winter long sleep ich I can see the garden I´ve been cutting the grass and where I´ve being hoeing close to the cypress path and the neighbour fence yes, the same of the curtains). Well, but the most was I even cleaned the shed. Now, given that a man in the shed is a song it shouldn´t have been on five leaf left, I do agree, (btw way did they put it also in time of no reply? Well it is time of no reply after all) that was quite impressive after all. At that I remembered something that I have seen in one of the usual documentary thing on the TV, that penguins are one of the few animals in which is the male exemplar that looks forward the chicks and even broods the eggs. Not that that there is anything weird and I found it really democratic. I think i can remember that the penguin in question looked also quite proud of sitting over the eggs and the nest and wasn´t chatting too loudly with a nearby mate. I think that look mist of worries and apprehension was actually about were his beloved halved might have finished when fishing jumpy fish in the not so warm water of the southern hemisphere. Moreover I feel sympathetic, an awful load sympathetic, to this goofy and smart birds that can´t fly in the air but only in the water. They look very kind to each other, I think that´s why in children books the waiters are often depicted as penguins. Alright, for the black and white suite that mother nature has given to them but aren´! t they luvely? Just a certain point I felt SO sympathetic to the them that I really feared something might have transformed me into one of them. I was sure it wasn´t the case, and that not I wasn´t another G. Samsa, when I get back into my bedroom and I didn´t find some enormous eggs over the duvets and looking at the mirror I didn´t looked like being dressed in a smart black and white dress at all. This had the advantage I shouldn´t care my flat mate coming back and hurting me with some kind of vegetable, I would have need to pay particular care to apples [and oranges], or eventually even throwing some trouts i e had trown some smoked salmon but that can be for another time. Smoked salmon prompted a half-a-kind-of-an-idea.... Curiosity and suspiciousness. Take care, Yours Stefano PS: my degree of consciousness about `sharing a whole lot of thinks´ to the not such agile things as penguin, remember me that my agility is almost as good as my English, and is even worst than my geography, sorry for having added an additional state to the Us and declassed the Uk to state number 52... I think tony should be worried which one the 51st might be.... PSII: thank you very mush to anyone who had post me off list about joining the rally on Saturday, and you still think you might be interested to come, just drop me a line... we can all walk packed like a penguin colony... they are lovely and harmless.... Again, take care stefano ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* I'll be careful when I drive 'cause I want to see her once before I die. ONQ ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* http://www.unedrmybed.org under my bed recordings a no-fi no-profit entity +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+