I went to the zoo the other day and I was dismayed to see the animals living up to all of the classic zoo stereotypes that Irish children are taught in primary school. During feeding time, the monkeys actually went straight for the bananas, and only ate the other fruits and vegetables when all the bananas had been devoured. Somebody should let the monkeys know they are doing themselves no goddam favours eating the bananas like that. Makes me a bit sick, really. Friend C is up from Cork for the week, and she says when she helps with the dishes in Cork, Cork people say to her, "Oh you'll make a great wife." It's exactly the same as the monkey banana scenario, isn't it? No difference. We're all just stupid animals. Why I myself ate a banana only this morning before church, rejecting all other fruits (except for the clementine which I also ate). Point being: MONKEY RIGHTS. They need a feminism for monkeys; perhaps we could call it primatism, I could make a little magazine urging the monkeys to eat the celery, and hell the carrots too, if they want. Who says carrots are for rabbits? Fascists, that's who.

So, things went bad in work and we couldn't pay the rent (thanks Asia), so we've downsized a tad and shifted business into my boss's spare bedroom. This now means that I can have a little nap and a shower in the afternoon if I so fancy. I am also working less hours, for more pay per hour. This is a situation I would like to take the time to recommend. In my four free afternoons a week you can now locate me being happy, possibly going bowling with Betamaxnomates or editing my church magazine, inserting swear words and small pornographic images in here and there. Honestly, you are reading the words of a far more content neuro; a neuro-praxis who refuses to consider the pinch at rent-payment time. The moral of my story is basically that inactivity doesn't breed laziness, it breeds happiness. That can be a moral for your life.

Saw Capote amongst other things but go see this: it's a picture of sin and its handsome cycle, plus Keener plays a surprisingly morally vapid Harper Lee, which was a delightful surprise. Pay your ten euros for your ticket and throw some popcorn at that noisy bastard on your left. Tell him it's from neuro. Then blow him a kiss. Did I say go see Shop Girl before? If I did I'll have told you to see it at once: now it's too late so hold your breath until it is released on video...it really is something and that is the end of my boring film review segment thank God or whatever you believe in (nothing? Thanks nothing!) it's over.

Well, I finally sit down to update and my brother in law has to go and have his birthday today so I must piss off to his celebration dinner now. Thanks folks, you're a terrific audience, it's been great, I'm here til Wednesday.

neuro-praxis -- I'm a black person, did you know that?