Tuesday, May 13, 2003
Like a babbling brook that can't shut up I discipline myself in the art of annoyance. I wind the cord of Orville Redenbacher popcorn on a string around my ashy elbows and drink hot toddy. Displaced in the classification behind the philosophy shelf that no one ever reads from. I bleed the same as a Jew from the merchant of Venice. I siphon the meaningless wheat from the chaff that I will make into rice crispy treats. Tsunamis creep into the crypt I have prepared for my cat. Yawn. Stretch. Morning.