Home again, home again. Jiggety Jig.
I don’t know if we’ll play cards. That never works. In fact i get a sort of scrotum ache whenever someome suggests that we sit down for a hand of death by sortng.
And so we watched “Brazil” and “Jennifer’s Body” on the plane. It was fun to hear the film-student boyfriend explain Brazil to the group in small words and gestures and at the end of the day who don’t love some Jennifer’s Body all up in your face? Dead people, that’s who, and we don’t care about them anyway.
This puts us home. On a Tuesday that’s probably technically a Monday from time-card purposes.
Everyone scatters, feeds and broods.
I’m a dick. A worthless speck of snot who knows nothing now and who will never, ever know anything relevant in a post-Stoppard world. Why I don’t do them a favor and kill myself they simply can’t grasp.
On Thursday, or Wednesday, or whatever the fuck it is, I’ll be the rock again. They’ll be hiding up under my shit like a five-striped skink what can’t swim in a downpour.
They’ll be, “tell us what to to do, Moses,” and I’ll be hungover but will still manage to point for them to sit their asses down in an airplane.
They come around. Most of us do. We go to the market and we get our fat pig.
Then’s it’s home again, home again. Jiggety Jig.
Very simple really.
——-
Phone safari #857
SFO
{…via trelvix-a-go-go - blurry bits of my life through phone pictures…}
Darker than usual. Still, a favorite writer/tumblr person.
