Tales from the Drip
Been reading like I've been fiending as of late. Like I don't know what else to do with myself. If your mind is doin' time like the rest of us campers, take a peek at "Farewell Waltz" by Milan Kundera. I've only just begun, as Karen Carpenter might have said, trying to make a joke concerning an embarassing situation, but even so... I am ri-VET-ted.
What to do, what to do? Your girlfriend is pregnant, your wife is at home. Sounds like real time to me. Why cain't Americans write like this no more? All I hear is the pop, pop, pippity pop of pop culture swarming around my armored head like an obstinant bee checking the back door. Lordy Lord, when does the persistence stop? Abandon all ye who enter here your televisions. If ye dare. That's the trick. Leave your habits at the hat rack and I promise a new world for you. Sing yourself a new song and all will be well. Ignore that persistent knocking on your noggin' and you will breathe anew.
Read a book. Take your best girl to the park. Commune with the meadowlarks. It's free. No need to pay for what the world wields you. The best things in life are as free as you want them to be.
Except water. Bastards make you pay for that too.
Word to the wise, make friends with that bartender. He'll sprinkle you with holy water until the night runs dry.
Tomorrow is a new thing, man. Keep it real... or to yourself.
Z.
What to do, what to do? Your girlfriend is pregnant, your wife is at home. Sounds like real time to me. Why cain't Americans write like this no more? All I hear is the pop, pop, pippity pop of pop culture swarming around my armored head like an obstinant bee checking the back door. Lordy Lord, when does the persistence stop? Abandon all ye who enter here your televisions. If ye dare. That's the trick. Leave your habits at the hat rack and I promise a new world for you. Sing yourself a new song and all will be well. Ignore that persistent knocking on your noggin' and you will breathe anew.
Read a book. Take your best girl to the park. Commune with the meadowlarks. It's free. No need to pay for what the world wields you. The best things in life are as free as you want them to be.
Except water. Bastards make you pay for that too.
Word to the wise, make friends with that bartender. He'll sprinkle you with holy water until the night runs dry.
Tomorrow is a new thing, man. Keep it real... or to yourself.
Z.
posted by Zodi at 11:27 AM
1 Comments:
Last time I took my best girl to a park, she was savagely mauled by a squirrel with hellfire in his eyes. She probably wouldn't have walked out of that park alive had I not clocked the beast on the noggin with an umbrella I found in a nearby shrub. I haven't stepped foot in a park ever since. That squirrel is out there somewhere I tell you, and he won't rest until he gets his pointy little teeth in my jugular. So you can tell that to your highbrow philosophers like Kundera and Karen Carpenter, safe in their ivory-scented towers, free from the psychological torment of thuggish parklife.
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