(Instagram twitted by @MirandaKerr at 08:06 CET - Saturday, January 25, 2013)
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Miranda: What are you doing now?
It's Saturday! I am cleaning the apartment with the best music of the world in the background.
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It's Sunday! Oh God, please, give me Wisdom. I'll marry her to Intelligence.
I will give her Piety as wedding gift, and faithfulness, as every day little things.
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It's Tuesday! But, thank God, I came out with a way to talk about the love that matters, that just love, without being almost annihilated by some spoiled women.
Firstly, I thought that I'd should picture you the account of when, hand in hand with The Sky, I managed to defeat the devil, and even to become alive; but now, I'd prefer to sing love in black words on white background and every scale possible. I just have to make it look like that I am do not singing for you. How clever! Oh, you, sweet you... How much I love you. You got to be by Angel. I should read you that prayer I wrote for you the other day, on this very same table, just below the "habit one's dream" neon light, on the back of the 3 kings. It comes like this:
Prayer to Saint-Lili
Ô you Saint-Lily you, May I be sweet like you.
You that I envision only made of sweetness and femininity,
may you, please, calm down my thoughts.
Don't abandon me please Saint-Lili.
Calm down my heart, my soul and my spirit.
I don't want to insult you. I just want to be true.
And I wish I had a woman like you.
Forgive me, you, Saint-Lili.
Forgive my celibacy.
I only want to be Saint.
I don't want to be a nightmare to you.
Thank you very much for the trust you have in me.
I love you Saint-Lili. I wish to myself to find a woman like you.
May God the Father be with me like HE is with you.
Please, Amen, thank you.
Miranda: But that's a prayer!
Don't tell me! She can't even do what I pray for. And wait, the worst part is that that night I then dreamt of Kylie Minogue! Naked in bed, sat on top of me, just chatting like boo and hubbyboo! Saint-Lili of Budaliget is literally reliving in her. Plus, you are right, it sounds like am just working at teaching precious secrets. Teachaolic me! I hope she will intercede for me and must confess that I have tendency to believe that all women are Saints. Victims of men. We should talk about that later. I badly need an apartment and a soul massage. Father can't respect me without my own place, even if it's rental. I am going to be too poor again. That means that, like by magic, I am going to met the ugliest women in town. We all went there. They are easy to recognize. They're the prettiest ones. Period. They never believe in love. And, of course, when you meet her, she's an item with the worst guy possible ever always oh not again that ridiculous scene! Don't fall in love before you realize how coward and lazy she is! Or you are doomed. She is never going to play her part. She is going to do everything for your couple to be just pity sex a few time after all. And the last time you will have her on the phone, she will have the pleasure to tell you that, this time, she is doing everything right for her new relation to work. You know... at the university... some guy has a Porche, and his girl a convertible too, all out of the sugar daddy blue.
Miranda: You whine too much. That's not singing love.
No. It's just an impression. I am smiling, and teaching. I started jogging again! My spine is neurosurgeon fixed. My head is rested. My heart is unbroken. I'd be 20 years old again if it wasn't for my soul. But I am confident. Highly good spirits! Smoking cigars and cigarets with a dash of light jam in it. I have never been this close to meet madam always right. I am 5' 7, I know you'll never want me. But it's just ok. Let's be the militant church! The triumphing one will shine on us. With the Glory of the Face of God on ours, we will conquer the world. Almighty dynasty! Here we come, the sword of truth in the hands, what a smile! Full of Angels, it is you and us, earthly brothers and sisters: the Man. Servants, sons and daughters of the Queen serving God. Serving and singing. Rocking and dancing. Loving and praying. Oh sweetie, life here never was this beautiful in 62 thousands years. Paradise on earth! Like in late March and early April 2001, before I had my right foot stuck in the fault of San Andreas. Typically the kind of soul dilemma that can only happen to me. Olive oil should be poured on it. I am sure it would help.
Miranda: You talk to yourself well. What should we do?
Well, for the moment, I am going to pay for the coffee and the orange juice I drank while writing these lines, and finish to smoke that cigar of mine. The super sexy black pearl just came, smiling, to have a drink with her male, and left laughing. I better work more. To be interesting is not enough. Better be interested like says Jane Fonda. Get rid of the slightest spark of mockery in you. Sisters, you shall know that you have to have qualities! Prince charming is going to be very heartbroken if you are lazy, coward, lewd, greedy, climber, imbecile or God knows what else more. Prince charming has qualities. He will chin up and recover. Imagine what women face in muslim countries, or in places like Papua new Guinea, where males are barely humans, and where 96% or the population calls thyself a Christian. So you, brothers, you shall never play to sink girls, not even at the swimming pool. Should I say more?
Saint-Lili: No, not needed.
Oh my God! Pretty protean you again! In elder Minogue shape. I better leave the tablet and get to the kitchen to cuisine me a first plate strong on vinaigrette. I am being haunted by a shapeshifter. I like that! Next week-end I should buy a bottle of American wine. Or Australian! Whatever! Till it's not french. Hallelujah! Tell a woman she's beautiful a thousand times, she never believes you; call her fat once, she never forgets! Dating tips...
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It's Wednesday! An ejaculation woke me up this morning. I am glad I didn't slept naked last night. Assumed chastity has it's reward. They often think that it's an offense. Sad I don't remember at all what was going on in this particular dream. I am hiring monks and nuns. It's not that hard after all. Actual ones should get rid of old rules when it just tortures. This became chronicles.
Miranda: This became chronicles.
Saint-Marianda: Beautiful ones.
Now that was beautiful, faithful.
Saint-Mary: Miranda is just your imagination.
I guess this is why she is there, saying nothing, like a mystery. I hope she is one of them made of love. This got Twitted yesterday. Woman are made of love. Heavens! They're poetry! I just realize. And fresh water! Tell me about Science. Are you still here, imagination?
Miranda: Call me Miranda. It's poetic. Sing love again.
I make you sound like a robot. But it is not intentional. Dear readers, please, acknowledge that Miranda Kerr, famous amongst winged societies for her precision, didn't talk with brutality. Maybe she did once! Maybe she's a between the lines brute. I don't know, I never met her. But here she is a sweetheart. A muse! An imagination come true, just because that is new. She is that silent glance beyond supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. I can't wait again to see her new thoughtful square.
Miranda: Not bad.
You are right, I am making it sound like I am making fun of you, and don't want to call you fat. Instead, let me tell you the month of November that started a 31st of October. I don't recall if I already did it in English. Even if I already did! Burning glances could compare. Precise words resolve problems. Sad Spielberg wasn't here! On that so suddenly miraculous supermarket parking lot. Let me picture me that again for you. I am just leaving it, heading towards the avenue of the Alouette, the bottle of vinegar in my right hand, and God's closed fist, turned upward, and moving backwards, appears in front of me. HIS hand is surrounded by a rectangular frame made of a tempestuous cloud. It lasts an instant, maybe an eternal second, and it's almost as big a
s a movie screen. I don't try to look around to see if other people saw what I just saw. I am totally surprised, but I am dead ready. There was August 1999 before, and there is no drugs that can compare. LSD is for babies. Take one for the second time, and you already seen as boring by the Angels, like usually. A noob. A bad experimentalist. Daddy's good boy. Logic and Faith... now that's a powerful mix... when you know everything since a long time. God was angry. So I stayed calm. No thoughts. Just attentiveness. In my shoe box. Between the pc and the kitchenette. With my brand new 7,70 Francs vinegar bottle. Acknowledging again that every single thought we produce in us is simply heard by The Sky. I was precisely thinking that God should have been so bothered by that unholy spirit in the air. Like a tasteless vinegar. It's not that the all town was crazily mass celebrating Halloween for the first time. It's they were celebrating with an devilish passion. They were celebrating bad booze. Unholiness. Dumb downward drunkenness. They were celebrating badly. It was ugly. And it was a grave sin. A dead party with zombies on coffee and precocious ejaculation contest! I refused to join the one I was invited to by the lady neighbor. Poor thing. I never found how to help that woman more than I did. May the universe conspire for her to see me on TV. Oh God, don't let me become a