Dead moon rises again
Yesterday I met an old lady in my regular cafe in Ikebukuro. She'd been to Shinjuku Gyoen to enjoy cherry blossoms (some are still blooming), and we chatted about this and that. She showed me pictures of her son and his wife and three-year-old daughter who're living in China. So today I went to Shinjuku Gyoen. It was pretty nice, even though the katsudon I had on the way fell right down to the bottom of my stomach and made me feel heavy and dizzy. All I took were pictures of flowers... I'd planned to check out the fleamarket at Hanazono Shrine. I'd read that they have one every Sunday. But this week the shrine had it's own business, so there was no fleamarket. I was told it's also canceled if it rains.
Today, as I was sorting through mails from auctions, suddenly there was email from Koushi. The gist of this mail written in hardly comprehensible near-english is that contrary to what I've believed, they're not making him sit in his own waste and never letting him see the light of day. Apparently the firm has them set up quite nicely, and everything's free. But they still won't let him out. And that Goldman Sachs is being sued by the SEC.
He writes me the first time in two and a half weeks, and that's what he thinks to write... Yesterday, when the talk turned to my relationship, the old lady told me she was sure he's thinking of me constantly. Well, as it turns out, it's not me he's thinking about. It's Goldman fucking Sachs.
The ash cloud shows no signs of dispersing, as far as I understand.
Today, as I was sorting through mails from auctions, suddenly there was email from Koushi. The gist of this mail written in hardly comprehensible near-english is that contrary to what I've believed, they're not making him sit in his own waste and never letting him see the light of day. Apparently the firm has them set up quite nicely, and everything's free. But they still won't let him out. And that Goldman Sachs is being sued by the SEC.
He writes me the first time in two and a half weeks, and that's what he thinks to write... Yesterday, when the talk turned to my relationship, the old lady told me she was sure he's thinking of me constantly. Well, as it turns out, it's not me he's thinking about. It's Goldman fucking Sachs.
The ash cloud shows no signs of dispersing, as far as I understand.