Friday, March 30, 2007

Staring at the blank screen, wondering how to fill it up. Nothing to lean on, like the fate of the los angeles clippers, a topic made for pontification. Nay, this is time for something deeper, if that exists. Ha, of course it does. Morrissey plays in the background, just begging for depth unkown since atlantis first fell to prince namor’s trident. Er, Arthur Curry’s spear arm? Don’t even get me started on that.

I have verbally promised the dog three times in the last half hour that I am going to give her a bath, something let’s all hope I don’t renege on. Priorities, though, paduan, and at this moment my daughter needs to eat, and the cuisine of the eve is vegetable turkey conglomerate corporation of America, brought to you by the skipping elucidations of a british confusatorium.

I will tell you now and hear me later that my daughter, she learns things at the rate of the combined flight speeds of African and European swallows completely unencumbered with coconuts times the pythogorean theorem cubed plus one million. Oh and have I mentioned in the last five minutes that all the clichés about never knowing the meaning of love, of ultimate unconditional blinding and extreme love of which you never knew existed, until you have a child, that those rumors and wherewithals are absolutely and unequivocably true? You heard it here 87th, Toledo.