Thursday, December 03, 2009


Thursday, I can't say I don't care about you but I really am tired and though you are my Friday, my week's end, and even I can't seem to sustain the illusion I am certainly more than the sum of my parts, which are just a guy who works the rides, I must say, I'm never going to give it up. You'll have to jerk me out, kicking and screaming. You'll have to over-power/force me out. I hope I'll never go willingly. I want forever to be known as the best writer of my kind, though I may never be able to have, in my lifetime, that moniker as my actual title thing, only source of income, never be able to have that as my only job, have it plentiful in payoff, and satisfy my soul. (I'll have of course the travel to Asia and promote Whisky, Clothing, Paper and Writing instruments on the side to supplement my income of course. That goes without saying, and is beyond reproach, what I, as a man, must do.) Yes, Thursday, you, like any one, thing, place, all are fodder, grist, muse for my mill! I love you, by and large. Thank You.
{From the Handheld}

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