… cried the subject line, and i was … distracted. ‘hmm,’ i thought, ‘maybe that’s what i need. midget prøn. hell with this work bullshit, gimme nekkid midgets!’
and then it occurred to me … really nothing, nothing at all, i was blank like the most flabbergasted blank that’s ever been blanked. which brings to mind match game, remember match game? gene. gene rayburn. and then i remembered when george carlin, musing on the seven words you can’t say on tv (fuck shit piss cunt cocksucker motherfucker and tits), said that it was ok to say boobs because it was a standard answer on match game, or some such.
i guess you had to be there.
where for the love of holy mindfuck has the time gone? work, billable hours, drained down the howling vortex of just-never-know-land. a fact which would call for another interjection of fuck, as in what a fucking potty mouth i am here. and i don’t like this, aesthetically, it is coarse, unseemly, rude, crude, (or in the context of this evening in particular, mild, gentle, and understated, but i digress).
i digress, and i cuss gratuitously, to the extent i make my ownself uncomfortable as all hell here, which … brings me to blank again. blank will be fine, and thanks for nothing is something i would say (not a hint sarcastic intent in it) if only nothing would ever happen, but what are the chances? i’ll answer: chances are, it will happen, just not in this lifetime.
so then it felt like i ought to step outside this, adopt a disappointed stance and claim i never meant to write such an uneven unlyrical unlovely unwonderful thing, attempting to elicit encouragement and/or lessen the offense of it (circumstances in mitigation: defendant went ahead and did it, but she didn’t like it, no not one itty-bit. nossir, she turned her nose and sniffed askance at it. she did.)
however upon further consideration i believe that would be a pretentious snotload of a thing to try and claim, so i won’t. and while i might regret releasing this thing from oblivion, i promised honest when i came to this place, and honest is often ugly. more often than not, really, although we are royally loathe to admit that, aren’t we?