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While my so-called colleague on this site has skipped bail and gone AWOL all the way to the Canary Islands, I'm left to my own devices with seemingly thousands of people calling, teeming with anger and bile, all ready to be delivered to my glorious self all bow-tied and handed on a gold platter. We're so happy with what little we can have.
Can I have a little more, Sir?
It's winter outside. My hands are cold, but I don't feel like Bill Murray in "Scrooged". Au contraire, cherie bitch, I'm quite sane and happy. Morrissey's coming album is playing from my little computer speakers and I'm in love as I hear his stories, most of which deal with unrequited and/or scorned love, depending on the song. As Catullus once rhymed:
"A mighty pain to love it is,
And 'tis a pain that pain to miss;
But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain."
Catullus obviously isn't me, thank Bog.
Work, work, work. Instead of registering new users I'm taking a very well-deserved break. I'm eagerly awaiting a shopping trip in the afternoon followed by coffee. Or ale, whichever comes first. I'm happy either way. Bliss me out, love. Love reign o'er me, come, and those Angels from afar waft your wings in slow, while the day turns into night and we wonder: will be be all right?
// N
Posted by pivic
