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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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Rickety Demons
I have a few minutes while here in Max's office... Spent a bit of the afternoon satisfying the usual pre-premenstrual syndrome horniness. (PPMSH? Now I'm just getting silly.) I seriously could not concentrate on anything until that was done. And when it was done, I went back to the painful writing of Dan Brown. (And I can't help but to think that if I knew the guy, everytime I'd see him, I'd grab him and give him a head noogie and say, "Dan, Dan, bo-ban, banana-fana fo-fan, mi, my, mo-man, Dan!" and everyone would laugh at him and he would have no choice but to laugh too just to prove that he wasn't as big a geek as he suspected himself to be.) His writing? Is bad. I think we've established that. But I love Ladas, and so I have sworn, as his loyal friend, to finish this novel. But, aaaaa! My eyes! And The Brain? Keeps begging and begging me to stop. It's even gone so far as to threaten siezures whenever I reach for the dreaded red covered mass paperback that bears the name Dan Brown on the cover. But me? Since when have I ever listened to The Brain? We're finishing the damn book, and then we're going to breathe a sigh of relief, and then we're going to read some more Hemingway just to get the Dan Brown out. And I'm going to return the novel to Ladas and kiss him on both cheeks and then later Sonny will come to tell Michael that Ladas has gone to sleep with the fishes. Or something. I may have had too much coffee this afternoon...or too much Dan Brown. The writings of Dan Brown should be listed in the PDR as lethal in even minute quantities. There should be parental warnings on the covers of his books. And I know I'm getting ridiculous about Dan Brown. But I can feel my cynicism increasing exponentially with each line of his oh-so-thrilling novel. And I'm growing bitter about my own cynicism, dammit. That can't be good. Anyway, enough Dan bitching. Guess where I'm headed off to this evening! No, guess! Really, you won't be able to. Just try. C'mon. No? Well, I'll tell you then: I'm going to the gym! See? You would never have guessed. I love you all, my demons. I love you all in turn though, okay? The line forms to the left. Welcome Ricky Demons. You will be my greatest creation yet, boy. I'm sure of it...
More lies:
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