One putrid Tuesday, two young children who lived next door, Bullion and Egg Cream Pulpit, 5 and 7 respectively, began throwing small, dense, greenish spheres at us as we thrashed out our new song, "Spools of Thread." What were these strange painful spheres, we wondered. They turned out to be mutant limes growing on the thorny stunted lime tree on the far side of the Pulpit's house. Ouch!
In response, the following morning, we tried to light their house on fire with damp matches, to no avail.
I want to tell you that I am too uplifted to feel depressed. That is my new way of living for now. I have reached a point of self-actualization combined with acute awareness of reality. It is somewhat sunny. The sun is streaming in the grubby, pee-stained windows of the men's room in a peculiar way.
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8 comments:
You are weird. Did that really happen?
Why don't they clean the windows in the men's room where you work? That's unsanitary. Gross out.
I wish that I could sing you a song, mm. I think you need nurturing. Your childhood sounds stinky. What about primal scream therapy? I've tried it and it was effective. Now I don't lick people when I meet them.
are you irish
are you irish
I am not Irish. I am part Scotch, part Schoonmaker, part Lamb and part Tasmanian. That's ME!!!
Hey Vivien, I like your style, but I didn't realize you were a Christian. That's a bummer. I am more into magic and the devil's business.
Vivien you are incredible. I think I am in love. Please write more please!!!!! Don't go away from here. Stay.
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