July 31, 2008
I think we need to see other people. Just for a while.
Of course I still love you, it’s just… we work together all day, and then we work a little on the side, we get together over weekends, and somehow, between all the tinkering and analysis, between all the strategies and printouts, I’ve lost sight of just how much fun we used to have together. Imagine that. (Can you?) Fun. I miss the old days of casual, carefree, browsing – dropping in on friends for a quick snark and a belly-laugh, window-shopping until my fingers hurt, drinking in information until my eyes blurred. God. When it all get so serious?
Pumpkin, the thrill has gone.
So. I’m going to go analogue for a bit. Minimise the deadlines, dust off that mountain of titles next to my bed, dust off the Insignificant Other, take up a new hobby, go *outside*, actually see people. Socially.
Distance. Perspective. Enchanting Views… that sort of thing.
And then, we’ll see.
Au revoir, dearies.
July 18, 2008
“You aren’t going to lie around and moan all day,
are you, dear?”, enquired Mother, solicitously side-stepping
an incisor and a small tangle of intestine. Edgar nodded weakly
and tied off another tourniquet with his teeth.
July 10, 2008
Urgent and mysterious circumstances compel me, Benitez, to stuff a pigskin valise and flee this town, the rain, and the Internet, until further notice. Say, Monday. Abnormal service will resume as soon I resume, that’s all I’m allowed to say. Apologies for the short notice, but when you gotta go, you gotta go.
Don’t break anything. Don’t torch anything. Those are not raisins.
Auf Wiedersehen, pets.
July 4, 2008
“Watch out for the third-floor rapids!” whooped Virgil,
paddling past the dining room on a wingback.
“I wonder if Edna’s still in the cellar?”, Edgar mused,
splashing a little, as a prosthetic leg and
the collected works of W. Somerset Maugham
eddied gracefully around a side table.
June 27, 2008
“There’s a thumb in my gazpacho!” shrieked Edgar delightedly,
spattering the maître d’ with cold peas and chloroform.
“And so you win the doubloon and the Party Sombrero,”
cheered Father, magnanimously attempting
to conceal his disappointment.
You will nip over to The Cactus Patch and wish Parenthesis a Splendid Birthday today, won’t you? And while you’re there, apologise for being two days late – because, you know, time-keeping is not my strong suit. Olé! (Seriously, dear – I hope it was wonderful.)
But I’m not late for everything. No. Kyknoord will, in fact, be knocking back the cupcakes and birthday canapés with his nearest and dearest tomorrow – here’s to an action-packed, fun-filled, and smoking-hot year ahead for you too, dear.
June 20, 2008
“What is it this time,” tut-tutted Edna as the clash of steel
echoed from the parapet, “the choirmistress in Utah?”
“Fresh bloodstains on your Mother’s collar,” whispered Nanny Swedbourg,
distractedly ladling more starch into her tea.
June 13, 2008
“Stick to your lanes – and no jostling”, hissed Coach Falconetti,
handing stocking caps and a crowbar to the 4th Grade Relay Team.
“Now, let’s bring home some silverware!”