Just before the war with the eskimos, sometime during De Daumier-Smith's blue period, the laughing man went to visit Uncle Wiggily in Connecticut. Down at the dinghy he met Teddy, who declared it a perfect day for bananafish. He did this for Esmé — with love and squalor. Pretty mouth and green my eyes thought Franny and Zooey, perhaps old JD's off in a place where the catcher in the rye may raise high the roofbeams carpenters and give Seymour: an introduction.
Thanks for the memories Mr. Salinger. I'm about to sit down to your books anew and try to remember how to write. Hold on Caulfield, here we come, gettin' straight delorious.
Gonna try to sleep off this Twizzler coma, most likely awakened by a red bowel movement. Happy Groundhog Day y'all...
Twizzler coma, huh? Try Pez coma. First you're so hyper you're vibrating fast enough to lose solidity and go invisible, then you crash so hard you fall asleep mid-battle in the Wii Zelda game (Twilight Princess, duh). When you wake up, you have a sore throat and you're sick for two weeks. Well, okay maybe it was just that one time, but still. It's bad.
ReplyDelete-M.E.
hey, is this creepy? we used to be opendiary friends. and facebook friends. and now.. blogsppot friends!
ReplyDeletetiffany, word up, it's been a while. hope life has treated you well in the interim. i wouldn't say there is anything more creepy than usual about it, this is the internet after all.
ReplyDelete