Stupid of me to post now, on account of being very tired and behind on my Latin - hah, I wish it was only my Latin - but the day deserves an account in much the same way as a sword deserves a sharpening. Wonderful - I extricated a metaphor (don't tell me that's a simile, tropes are a fundamentally flawed overlay upon inspired writing) from my rectum (metaphorically speaking; mad snickering) and already I've devised an interpretation for it (another parenthetical expression just for kicks), which is that I desire to put a sharp edge upon a well-forged day, or something.
The current over(ab)use of things that are not similes is perhaps due to my undertaking of a PSAT examination this morning, the three hours of which were not sufficient to produce a full day of school and were therefore sensibly encapsulated in a half-day. This provided ample oppurtunity to partake of some of life's greasier, rustier delights. I refer to the fair. So we went on over there, though without the presence of Trevor and Erica, on account of their being disinclined - for lack of the sympathy needed to cull a more specific term - to first bombard their squishier bits with fatty acids (though what the hell is acidic about them I don't know) and to next repeatedly invert and revert those bits and their fresh contents.
The rest of us didn't have any problems with those prospects and pursued them until we were willing to admit to each other that we were getting bored, and then we took the bus back to the selfsame Park and Ride installment from which we had departed, an event of epic proportions (I'm paraphrasing, badly) as Gabriel Syme might have put it. Claire, Elena, Hannah and myself were the only ones still present at this point (Diana, Sam and Carolina having left earlier), and Claire was soon removed from our number by so sinister an event as the arrival of one or another of her parental units. We three remaining, not looking to departure with any great longing, went to an appealing spot (very nearby) in the shade of several large trees and reclined on some small platform by a humble stream, and told of past woundings and other, less painful events.
Then was the ride home with Hannah; the sky was spectacular, just beginning to warm to the hues of sunset, and it was good just being there. Arrival at home brought procrastination, and this is one of the baroquely worthless products. I bid anyone who reads this a beautiful night, whenever that night may occur for you. Sometime I will enjoy that beauty to its unlikely limit, but tonight as usual I sleep trading that dream for others, in the hopes that I will have more chances and the wit to seize them.
posted on Tuesday, October 21, 2003
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