Tuesday, December 30, 2008
I'm comfortable communicating with an orange on two levels. Let it be said that I didn't prepare so much as pretend to accept the judgment of probably not the first time you set foot in the sad location. Pretty soon it'll be heavy enough to transport across state lines, if you ever thought about doing so. To me it wasn't enough that the plane landed safely, but that over a period of time you might grow to appreciate the sacrifices made on this hill or even that other one in the years before it all fell apart. Too many decisions went unmade for too long and the response has been swift, totally without the use of his hands. Sunlight looked out of place until Maury fixed it, labeled it and polished the original score while, oh, nevermind. It's humbling to have been sold underwear that actual Romans wore. Only, too bad you didn't get a receipt or otherwise they would not have had a way to track you down in case of emergencies, one of which you've heard of. Not lately, but soon, and then some, incredibly out of sorts. Relaxing wasn't part of the plan, but the plan was soon amended to include stuff like that. Towering behind the wheel sat Jeremy popping corn and saying things like, "I bet your hat doesn't float, do you have another apple? I say..." and pretty soon even he gets eaten up by the lack of open-ended questions littering the beach. Just get up and flip it, the whole case comes down to a single hair, so I'm told. To last another night, feed the whale another bucket of cream after it happened, go to town and get a load of the priciest chum. Add another one.