bacon, jambon, ouefs, souse ma... merci bo.... sils vous... fucking large coffee, alright?
Another trip where I'm with the parent, and you know when it comes to, when I come to, finding the place with all the stuff, parents just don't understand. I fell in love with Marina too, just like all the other Bonsai dorks who hang around her like puppies because she is incredible. And where boats go. Of course, she is 60 and white haired and her son is 5 inches taller than me so there would have to be adjustments.
But no adjustments, that was a failure. This time I am just myself, because I am. Also another trip where I am there but only want to be here. Anyway.
Still, Montreal is good, it's in between, but close enough either way. The stall in the crapper said "Anglo go home" so I wrote underneath "BONJOUR ASSHOLE". They have streets here, like any other city, not little enclaves with fenced borders and guards wearing sports jerseys or talbots blouses.
My dad showed the slide of the infant doll, mouth agape in ecstasy, stradling, hands gripping a femur, lashed tightly to, by the roots of the tree growing from his back. The Europeans are all disgusted, because even smeared with madness, his pieces are better than theirs. At beer, he layed out his evidence that he was being surveiled by the secret service. I had forbade him to discuss that. Perhaps I must remind him why that can't be discussed.
All this shit is ok, I'm more excited to go home.
But no adjustments, that was a failure. This time I am just myself, because I am. Also another trip where I am there but only want to be here. Anyway.
Still, Montreal is good, it's in between, but close enough either way. The stall in the crapper said "Anglo go home" so I wrote underneath "BONJOUR ASSHOLE". They have streets here, like any other city, not little enclaves with fenced borders and guards wearing sports jerseys or talbots blouses.
My dad showed the slide of the infant doll, mouth agape in ecstasy, stradling, hands gripping a femur, lashed tightly to, by the roots of the tree growing from his back. The Europeans are all disgusted, because even smeared with madness, his pieces are better than theirs. At beer, he layed out his evidence that he was being surveiled by the secret service. I had forbade him to discuss that. Perhaps I must remind him why that can't be discussed.
All this shit is ok, I'm more excited to go home.