Los desastres de la guerra
In which it becomes evident that our efamed linguist is suffering a severe case of exhaustion...
I am quite certain that, since I've been functionally absent from this venue for approaching 3 weeks, there are oodles of missives that have gone sailing past my nose like an erstwhile bat in the night. Truly, if you have my e-mails/phone, you should be contacting me. If not, leave me a post here and I'll try to catch up with you.
In any case, the rapidly approaching end of summer neatly encompasses a brief few months which, only in the last couple of weeks has included my birhtday, Santo Mincho's birthday, the wowing of three new section heads, my relocation to another training facility, then reassignment by higher ups to an even newer facility, the beginning of a new training cycle and acquisition of a host of new trainees, and a serious deficit of down time. I haven't been able to really keep up with my exercise program over the past couple of weeks as a result, and am reaching home (although a bit earlier given the new position) more exhausted, and have fallen asleep atop my keyboard on more than one occasion.
Not sure if I mentioned it, but at some point during the summer a third party contacted me and the count is now up to 3, count 'em 3 diry stories sold for the year, and the Assassin and I are back at it again, this time I've tattooed her neck (pics to follow) and things are evolving into I'm not entirely certain what. This weekend is an attempt to arrive at the Exxxotica NY festival. More on this as events warrant.
Records of the birthday insanity, waterfalls, the fall of 2x4s and the rise of Ambience, and how it is the the title of a series of grotesques by Fracisco de Goya y Lucientes came to be the title of this post in the coming (ahem) days.