the siding is squeaking like a horror movie soundtrack in the 80 kph gusts and I briefly heard the white plastic chair dancing around on the deck
I’ve seen lovely pictures of possibly new species of peacock jumping spiders from Australia — OMG did you know they spin pup tents in inclement weather, — defended the virtue of someone I follow on the internet (then changed tactics and deleted it) but in general all the news is fucking grim and Julian Assange being shipped to the US is kinda the rancid maraschino on a news cycle that includes Mike Nesmith dying.
I suppose if we’re going to have an ‘orgy of death’ culture, which seems to be happening right before our eyes without so much as a by your leave or a shut uppa you face, I should mention that if you google Henry Kissinger tontine you will experience exactly what is advertised, and all I could think when I saw it was how much John Caspell would have loved that, and likely thrown in a few shekels.
Whenever my pOp querulously remarks to mOm ‘what on earth is she on about now’ I have to remember that I too hope to get older and I should maybe slow down. So, I will. From now on, I’ll write eight grade sentences and punk chew ate properly.
aw who am I kiddiddning
It’s my business to maintain a playful relationship with the language.
