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Sep 27, 2005

No one is replying to my bits and pieces of verse, and I find this inordinately troubling. Obviously no one would have anything to say to some silly lyrical fragment, even one accompanied by a funny or disturbing image trawled out of cyberspace. Really, I'm just copying this nonsense from scraps of paper I find in my pockets at the end of the day. It's a great way to keep the updates coming even though I can't be erudite on cue like some peo-ple. But still, every time I come to this page I feel the distress of isolation in a very fiery place.

Like this poor woman.

TUPPERWARE. THE TRAGEDY OF OUR (GRANDPARENTS') TIMES.
"It's all crap. It's shite -- a disaster."

I pity you all on the day I become an arbiter of taste. That day is far away, but not as far as you might think. Fortunately I am still capable of rational thought, even if I choose not to put any here. It's just that I'm so damn tired all the time.
Nick ::: 10:33 AM ::: 0 comments

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