Little to say this morning. Long-haul buses suck and Northern Ontario is beautiful, in about the same proportion.Being involved with a person is scary because it makes you stare hard at the future. When you hear the word 'indefinitely', or think it, and it all seems so long - not to be together, not to love each other, but to colloborate when you've never colloborated with anybody for more than a couple years. But then, also irresistibly exciting.
And this morning's fruit smoothie has been made with flax seeds instead of bourbon; I'm out of ginger so it tastes like some sort of hippie peanut butter. Grr. The Red Dragon is gone so there's no power to my annoyance.
Oh. Today is May Day, that big old Commie holiday, and also the birthday of the Swiss, which alway struck me as hilarious since he was the last of the McCarthyites. Memories of him make me nervous - not because of all the ways he swore he'd kill me, I could take the bandy-legged little fucker, but what great evidence he is of how I don't know how to choose'em.
Oh Great Communist Overlord in the Sky, make me smart and clever this year . . . Have a nice week my doves!
2 commenti:
Ha ha, I used to love May Day. My champagne socialist family would always take me up to Highgate to visit Karl Marx's grave. It's so spooky looking, it really used to terrify me as a kid.
And this year, I'm working overtime, analysing how much money my posh banking job firm have made. Wearing a tie to show my solidarity with the Leisure Classes. (not really.)
How times have changed... :-)
May Day doesn't exist in North America - we celebrate Labour Day at the beginning of September to celebrate going *back* to work after miserably short vacations, usually with an expensive jaunt to a nicely outfitted cottage.
Hasta la revolucion siempre.
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