Monday, May 29, 2006
This is a Request
Dear Sun:

Please go away. Today,the temperature was over 90 degrees and I do not do well in the heat. I am of Northern European descent. No, I do not think I am superior to anyone despite the fact that I am naturally blonde with chameleon colored eyes and sturdy bone structure. In fact, I am learning that I am weak, nay, sickly, in this heat. I melt. I get a headache. I get a stomachache. I dream of golden showers. No, wait. Just showers. I dream of showers.

It has not rained for about five days. It is too hot. Everything is wilting in the humidity. How can it be so humid and not rain? How can I still be sweating when my thermometer in the apartment is reading 67 degrees? And WHY did we buy leather furniture? I am sticking to every inch of dead cow, and I am coming away from the furniture with a 'squelch' sound. It's rather icky.

In other news: Michael and I have reached a conclusion. There has to be some kind of additive in popcorn--especially the microwave variety. We hate the popcorn. The popcorn gets stuck in our sad gums. The popcorn lodges in our throats. The popcorn falls into the sofa. The popcorn is dry and dull. Yet, we eat the popcorn.

The popcorn is trying to kill us.

In closing, this could be possibly the dullest entry I have made in...well, a matter of days. Yes, sir, we have no imaginations.

Thank You,
Written by FRITZ
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Name: Fritz

Location: Detroit Rock City!
Where the weak are killed and eaten

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    What I Live By:
    We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, unremembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning; At the source of the longest river The voice of the hidden waterfall And the children in the apple-tree Not known, because not looked for But heard, half-heard, in the stillness Between two waves of the sea. Quick now, here, now, always— A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into the crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one. -T.S. Eliot "Little Gidding"

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