Twice Weakly


A hop, a skip and a fortnight goes by, casting askance glances shoulderwise. Curious at glinting Fortnight’s eye, I call up my calendar and find that every day for the last month is heavily annotated, the little squares filled with digitals. Since the 14th Aout, I’ve been to Manchester once, to see the paternal side of the family, back to London, to somewhere in Wales, to see some Folk (they were green, by all accounts but brother’s and I’s), back to London, to Paris, to play poker it seemed, back to london (for a hour), to Buxton, to drink the county dry (not touched a sip of the mineral water in fifteen years, perry burns a hole in yer gut/tering that the water would just trickle through, like a human filtration system, stalgatites growing out of your ruptured ulcers into interintestinal interstices. Or is stalagmites? Mite is right, as Kissinger always said), lack to bondon, was pimped up at Saint’s Row party (those girls shave awfully close to the thong), to Oxford, to watch the first of my comrades in the League of Strident Singletons do the blood brethren thing with a GIRL (Benedict, how could you betray our sacred vows and do all that pledging stuff? How can you make a solemn vow on anything about the future, when you have very limited control over it? WRONG.), that is, marriage, tack do bonlon, went to the first christmas tat party (walked away with screaming monkey, disembodied eyeball, candy clothing, book of arse called Cheek, etc), danced with zombies (they do an excellent version of thriller, more surprising produce grand finger food, in retrospect too many fingers, yuk), to the Isle of Wight (where the barrows crawl with the disembodied souls of campers, doomed to eternally wear their Bestival costumes, because they can’t find the irritating little bra hook small fo the back that dismantles the whole flapping crepe paper and wire edifice), talonknobdoc antbloodconk backtolondon, games played bomberman, godfather, heroesannhiliatedempires, legostarwarsII, ninetyninenights, &c, went to Sega’s Kew offices today, sat by the river, walked in the rain, stared for hours at the lightning in the night, Fortnight’s certain lead foot is descending to complete her passage, must bid adieu and wish that the next of her sisters proves as entertaining even if little old brain up here (hello!) can’t hope to hold her.


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