Silly harmony

I realize that this and the previous few entries have been rather lacking in thought, but nonetheless I feel this in particular should be noted. I just hula-hooped in my kitchen for an extensive period of time. Sometimes I think I have better things to do than hula-hoop in my kitchen, while contemplating the piece of art containing a parrot made out of painted pebbles on my wall and its neighboring homemade kite. I scarcely do. I cannot explain this, it is a phenomena recently born within me, but I insist you take my word for it.

One cannot remain so serious and grave while hula-hooping. Perhaps this is why. The Source of joy must not go unnoticed in instances like these.

"He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: Praise Him."
[my brother-man Gerard]

Gerard would perhaps wince at this [though I could probably present a fairly decent argument that hula-hooping is an abstract form of his beloved sprung rhythm], but I think the beauty of hula-hooping amongst appliances while looking at goofy art is past change. Praise Him.