Fucking hell, I’m back. Shit. How’d I get back here to this cursed place?
I shall tell you. I went through an extensive maze of IT comedy where I had to re-establish an old email address in order to receive an email with my SJ password because even though I remember it, yon blogger does not. All so I could re-establish control of this puny malformed, possibly subversive, mostly stupid, fucking, blog.
Those godamn robot filters where you have to type in the twisty letters make good fucking people filters too. I guarantee nobody on acid ever posts.
Much has happened since we last spoke. I have had several haircuts. There was an earthquake in Chile.
P4 grew up, married a jet salesman, had an affair with a jet pilot-slash-instructor, learned to fly a jet, divorced the jet salesman, lost the pilot to a gay astronaut, moved back home, grew back down again and forgot how to fly a jet. But it’s ok, I got her to write most of it down first.
The trebuchet has been dismantled. I used some of the wood to make a screen door. I have no enemies to vanquish at the moment and the mosquitoes are bad this year.
I know what you’re thinking, but it’s hard to hit a mosquito with a trebuchet. This is why they were not eradicated in the Middle Ages.
Just as well, think of the mess we’d be in if Malaria didn’t thin out the screen-less. The place is already a mess and there’s too damn many of us as it is.
One or more of you may have to look at other options.
I shall tell you. I went through an extensive maze of IT comedy where I had to re-establish an old email address in order to receive an email with my SJ password because even though I remember it, yon blogger does not. All so I could re-establish control of this puny malformed, possibly subversive, mostly stupid, fucking, blog.
Those godamn robot filters where you have to type in the twisty letters make good fucking people filters too. I guarantee nobody on acid ever posts.
Much has happened since we last spoke. I have had several haircuts. There was an earthquake in Chile.
P4 grew up, married a jet salesman, had an affair with a jet pilot-slash-instructor, learned to fly a jet, divorced the jet salesman, lost the pilot to a gay astronaut, moved back home, grew back down again and forgot how to fly a jet. But it’s ok, I got her to write most of it down first.
The trebuchet has been dismantled. I used some of the wood to make a screen door. I have no enemies to vanquish at the moment and the mosquitoes are bad this year.
I know what you’re thinking, but it’s hard to hit a mosquito with a trebuchet. This is why they were not eradicated in the Middle Ages.
Just as well, think of the mess we’d be in if Malaria didn’t thin out the screen-less. The place is already a mess and there’s too damn many of us as it is.
One or more of you may have to look at other options.
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