Giggles

Resplendent he strolls, perhaps a little self consciously, through the green overhanging leaves of his ego. Stately in purple, as all stately is, the waistcoat and the gold (just as you imagine!); “yes, this is how it’s meant to go.”

No, I wish I really did have anything to stroll about, but the fact of the obsequious matter is stroll is the new mope, and hope is the tract of chatter; essentially the goal.

That translates to I feel pretty darn nothing special. It’s like I feel good, but not because of any good thing, just the jutting general absence of striking bad. I am rather peckish. That’s to say, I’m ready to be pecked apart by large and oddly beautiful birds. DING, oh the metaphor bell is ringing, I’ll have to shunt off this track.
Trains and trannies and pains and pantomimes. Ugh! Mimes.

That’s like Hoffman/Huffman no one can pronounce Gyennhaal or Joaquin. HA! Or spell them for that reason.

I must eat! More later, stuff about university no doubt, I’ll talk about it when I FEEL LESS LIKE RIGHT-NOW-ME.

Be there for that.