Not Dead But Sheeping
I should post a bit, seeing as I've travelled across Canada, fallen deeper in love, done new things, rediscovered an old one (and found that I'm better at it than I ever was, years ago), been exiled from East London, and have some truly excruciating work-related suckage to unload into the echo chamber.
In the absence of actually communicating anything of substance, there's the latest meme bleating about the bushes: Pick up the book that happens to be nearest, open it at page 52, and copy out the fifth sentence.
Finally they joined the proprietor in the cabin and picked up the empty wallets from the floor.
The meme specifies that I do not name or otherwise describe the book; feel free to guess it.
…And to do the meme yourselves, perpetuating the sheepage.
This is a copy of my post here, on Dreamwidth, which has
comments. OpenID will allow you to comment there from your LiveJournal session: contact me if you have problems.
In the absence of actually communicating anything of substance, there's the latest meme bleating about the bushes: Pick up the book that happens to be nearest, open it at page 52, and copy out the fifth sentence.
Finally they joined the proprietor in the cabin and picked up the empty wallets from the floor.
The meme specifies that I do not name or otherwise describe the book; feel free to guess it.
…And to do the meme yourselves, perpetuating the sheepage.
This is a copy of my post here, on Dreamwidth, which has
comments. OpenID will allow you to comment there from your LiveJournal session: contact me if you have problems.