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bitter and cold

About 356 people have tried to sell me a cheap rolex today. I expect I'm not the only one. Christmas spam, ugh. Also, the heating is jammed into furnace mode. And then ....

My ex-boss calls me to tell me a colleague's husband died. Sudden illness, hospital, couldn't get him stabilised, gone. Pfft. I mean, I know it happens; I got my first webwhacking job when the person on the project went to the doctors with slight stomach pains one morning and was in emergency surgery by afternoon. That person recovered (though it took a while) but it can so easily go the other way ... I was going to see her for a meeting on Friday. God knows when I'll see her now.

Distractions: NRFB living, andy warhol plush banana 24 inches, dicks with chicks.

For all you fuckers lovely lovely people who've been making me read poetry, here's the Emily Dickinson I use when I'm walking home alone at night.

Split the lark and you ’ll find the music,
Bulb after bulb, in silver rolled,
Scantily dealt to the summer morning,
Saved for your ear when lutes be old.

Loose the flood, you shall find it patent,
Gush after gush, reserved for you;
Scarlet experiment! sceptic Thomas,
Now, do you doubt that your bird was true?

Comments

cleanskies
22nd Oct, 2004 05:38 (UTC)
oh ...
well at least I'm going about the txtmsg 150 character limit now. It was a wee bit intense, that.

These are probably a bit terse because they're just strung-together notes collected in a text window -- which means they've had one edit already before they hit the journal.

Plus, I've been in a sort of "brutal summary" mood recently.