The FIRST thing they do is attack the ladies' loos.
I went up and down the Arts building Thrice to find a functioning ladies' toilet. They were either locked or being renovated. Or one had to leap over the (uninviting. [duh]) piece of shit at the entrance of the only one that was open.
So I made horrified Science dork stand guard in front of a men's loo in the paasher building while I peed. I never imagined I'd call anyone bhaiti. Khyak. I must be getting old.
No, seriously, I must. I can't hold it in for as long as I used to be able to.
What's troubling is, we used to not have to be nice to the boys while we hijacked their toilets. Ah well, a little discretion relieves tummy ache. I will stop now.
It's good to be back. Stories to tell already.
But I need to flush sometimes dudes. Give us back our rest rooms.
[Yesyes, comments. I remember. Lovely little people, feel my pain. And paralyzing lethargy.]
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Things/thoughts/people
Cold and wet, like the days.
Smile. Better than speech and discovery.
Which is a better word - fulsome or blossom? Blossom. So how come I get to use the other one more, hain?
Walk towards the light, walk into darkness. Either way, you're blinded.
Much has been left behind.
Stop asking me how I feel. It is enough that I feel.
Pursuit. Persuasion. Perjury.
"What does freedom taste like?" she asked. Rain? I don't know. Your thoughts?
Nothingness and a constant buzzing.
Unwell. Like a fever. Like a viral fever? Like contagion. Well, unwell. khyak
Yes, I feel better. Because you only want results. Because there is no truth in what you do not know. How I laugh sometimes.
Voices spilling. and William Butler Yeats.
For you I bleed myself dry. Coldplay. Yellow.
William Rubin, Esq. Him of the pickled liver and artful despondency.
Dan.
Was cat, now hanky.
Smile. Better than speech and discovery.
Which is a better word - fulsome or blossom? Blossom. So how come I get to use the other one more, hain?
Walk towards the light, walk into darkness. Either way, you're blinded.
Much has been left behind.
Stop asking me how I feel. It is enough that I feel.
Pursuit. Persuasion. Perjury.
"What does freedom taste like?" she asked. Rain? I don't know. Your thoughts?
Nothingness and a constant buzzing.
Unwell. Like a fever. Like a viral fever? Like contagion. Well, unwell. khyak
Yes, I feel better. Because you only want results. Because there is no truth in what you do not know. How I laugh sometimes.
Voices spilling. and William Butler Yeats.
For you I bleed myself dry. Coldplay. Yellow.
William Rubin, Esq. Him of the pickled liver and artful despondency.
Dan.
Was cat, now hanky.
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