I Shall Have My Revenge
I had intended to post something by now, but I am in a state of aggravated panic. Much of my panic stems from posting nothing of consequence, but more importantly, I am concerned about the fuzzy line between patience and cowardice. None of my trousers fit, and I've been meaning to start a row with someone about it. Specifically, I've been meaning to accuse Germaine Greer of puncturing me with a fondue fork. Insufferable ogress.
2 Comments:
i'm compelled to comment, and yet what could be said here, in this atmosphere of idiosyncratic blurbles. it's an interesting bus stop, this blogging, and i suspect we'll never know anything about each other, not really. which in a spasm of irony is probably responsible for the structure and tone of your observations.
but, i want to relate anyhow.
though i'm contented as a stranger i'd like to think we'd share the same expression after witnessing someone fall down a staircase into a fishcart. and so i must comment, if only to suggest an intimate smile from across a room as they pull the clumsy dope from the fish.
this is how i will smile from now on.
famous quotes.
i suspect they will only compliment the pathos of your musings.
so here we go:
every mile is two in winter.
george herbertmaybe after a couple years of this we'll think ourselves capable of drinking a stoli raspberry soda in public together.
oops i didn't sign off.
-gatsby
there. pardon me.
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