November 4th, 2004



I had a run in with some frictionless socks and a be'rugged staircase, but it's hard to feel the slightest upset about it compared to the possibility of something injurious having happened on the road, instead of after I was safely tucked into my house. I like my convalescing indoors. The bruising is pretty swank, and I got to sit on some lima beans for a while.

Chris made me a gin and tonic with that bottle of Bombay Sapphire I bought like 3 years ago and never cracked the lid on. Such a bad alcoholic.

Bort has gotten over his Bortrage that dominated last night and this morning.. and Sprockets has phased out of galloping after me wherever I move and headbutting me whenever I stop. I think there are some other cats around here, too.. If we had a house phone I would have spent the entire first night erasing all the messages I would have left talking and singing to them.

Someone referred to me as a humourist while I was away. I wish I'd been there to shower him with presents. Like, little kid, parents just got divorced and feel guilty and jealously competitive kind of presents. I want to run up on people with a shiv when they try to position me as anything more than a shiny piece of string on the end of a fishing line. That's not disparaging, that's no shin kick. It's just that you don't take a clown with an acid-squirting flower and give it the Nobel prize for floral arrangements, ya'know?

Later I'll make with the tourism and the kudzu and the diesel powered road-kittens. (For real! Kittens?!) For now, Sprockets says 'Goodbye, mummy! Have a nice trip!'.
  • Current Music
    birds chirping over Fishtown