Journal: Entry for Kuke

<3 Flight of the Conchords!

Three zebras wander about the steppe. They stop around noon, and all three of them turn their heads toward us, silently and deliberately, and watch for just a moment. Then they continue to eat steppe grass. A wind blows. In London, someone shuts a window because the breeze has become too intense. In Australia, an Acacia blooms.

I roll over in bed and dream about touching a cow on its forehead, and wish you a happy birthday.

I mean, seriously: who spells this well while drunk? Very few people. People. Few. Very much so, people. And in the darkness: wind. The buddha feels tempted, but turns his head to the side.

And sparrows -- they dart in and out of the loft like popcorn in a pan.