I wish to make something beautiful. I wish to be a modern artist, I wish to be a little poet, I wish to be a happy musician, I wish to paint your clothes to appear in Super 8 [mm] formatly rich colors.
La, la, la, let's quit wishing. Let's become construction workers and drink out of thermoses. I'm not that strong now, but I imagine after a few months I could keep up a little better with all of the other construction workers. It might not be the most ideal job in some ways, I sunburn very easily, but it would be free of three to four minute French persuasive presentations. I wouldn't feel a stroke of pretention unless people kept asking me how to spell things. I kind of like manual labor. O to work all day long with a hammer at my hip then to trudge home to some tea as I fight the pleasant sensation of impending sleep long enough to brush my teeth and to read a half a page of a clever book and then surrender to heavy sleep which is not beknotted by twisted subconscious dreamings.
How perfecto that'd be.
¡viva!
i think this post is awesome.
ReplyDeletealso, i was curious if i sent you a letter. i think i did, but i have kind of forgotten....
yes. you did. and I was latent. actually i shall reply to you elsewhere because you probably won't read this
ReplyDeleteMarge, What a hairy arm you have.
ReplyDeleteI too thought this post was awesome but that is no surprise, it was written by a very awesome and intelligent woman.
Please excuse my lack of comma's in the last post. It should have read,
ReplyDelete"I, too, thought this post was awesome..."
Eliza, I can hardly believe you.
ReplyDelete