Detroit 27, Mars 0
You should probably ignore this post, o thou who see these words. I foresee neither any insights nor amusements, confessions nor accusations. I'm mostly writing now because I've run out of books to read, and such a circumstance is as depressing as it is novel. (No pun intended.)
And so at the moment I just write aimlessly, for at the moment writing aimlessly beats playing more Solitaire. But then, I've reached the point where a nice root canal might compete favorably with the idea of more Solitaire.
And Hearts.
Holy shit, I'm finally tired of Hearts. This is smileworthy; I feared the day might never come.
Mm. Well. Guess there's still Spades.
So hello, God and me and anyone else who didn't take my advice at the start. Welcome to my post for the night. As advertised, the score remains Detroit 27, Mars 0. I'm rooting for another team entirely this season, soooooo my congrats to Mars fans and condolences to Detroit fans in equal measure. Do remember, Detroit... the game ain't over until someone reaches -ph (pronounced "negative fish," but you knew that). So hang in there.
I miss my wife, and I miss my kids, and I miss my books.
And parachute pants, but who doesn't miss those? You ever ride down a stairway rail in parachute pants? You reach Mach 1.
I could go write in my notebook, I guess. Quit taking up space here. I've forgotten how to condense these things, so that'd probably be the polite thing.
Yeah. G'nite, whomever read this far. Peace.
And so at the moment I just write aimlessly, for at the moment writing aimlessly beats playing more Solitaire. But then, I've reached the point where a nice root canal might compete favorably with the idea of more Solitaire.
And Hearts.
Holy shit, I'm finally tired of Hearts. This is smileworthy; I feared the day might never come.
Mm. Well. Guess there's still Spades.
So hello, God and me and anyone else who didn't take my advice at the start. Welcome to my post for the night. As advertised, the score remains Detroit 27, Mars 0. I'm rooting for another team entirely this season, soooooo my congrats to Mars fans and condolences to Detroit fans in equal measure. Do remember, Detroit... the game ain't over until someone reaches -ph (pronounced "negative fish," but you knew that). So hang in there.
I miss my wife, and I miss my kids, and I miss my books.
And parachute pants, but who doesn't miss those? You ever ride down a stairway rail in parachute pants? You reach Mach 1.
I could go write in my notebook, I guess. Quit taking up space here. I've forgotten how to condense these things, so that'd probably be the polite thing.
Yeah. G'nite, whomever read this far. Peace.