SO NEXT WEEK I'M GOING TO WALK, BUT THE WEEK AFTER THAT I'M GOING TO RUN!
Well, yes, now that you mention it, Happy New Year to yourself, as well. I spent the first shining day of the new year hungover, contemplating whether or not a walk outside of the house could be risked. It was risked a few times, but both times I got a little panicky about all the other people walking around; they all looked incredibly un-sane for my taste. That could have been more me than them, but I don't like entertaining that possibility, if you must know. But I think I was a little giggly. And it was so warm outside, I felt like all of a sudden all of my clothes matched each other perfectly. And then I got back inside and tried to sleep and read, but the problem with my hangovers is that I become extremely sensitive not to actually gory, stomach-turning thoughts, but to mysterious and uncanny images which, unfortunately, populate much modern fiction to a notable degree. So, I could read The Corrections for a while, until Jonathan Franzen would compare somebody's face with a sausage, and then I would have to put the book aside and sit very quietly while trying to calm my stomach. This is a tedious way of spending a day, which we sought to remedy with pizza and a DVD of the Simple Life, but Highbrow Mr. West Coast Video told us that they don't have it. So we ended up with Harold and Maude, as well as some free children's movies. My stomach wasn't having it, you know. But later I got some magazines and Doritos and felt much better. So, another year of this, eh?
Well, yes, now that you mention it, Happy New Year to yourself, as well. I spent the first shining day of the new year hungover, contemplating whether or not a walk outside of the house could be risked. It was risked a few times, but both times I got a little panicky about all the other people walking around; they all looked incredibly un-sane for my taste. That could have been more me than them, but I don't like entertaining that possibility, if you must know. But I think I was a little giggly. And it was so warm outside, I felt like all of a sudden all of my clothes matched each other perfectly. And then I got back inside and tried to sleep and read, but the problem with my hangovers is that I become extremely sensitive not to actually gory, stomach-turning thoughts, but to mysterious and uncanny images which, unfortunately, populate much modern fiction to a notable degree. So, I could read The Corrections for a while, until Jonathan Franzen would compare somebody's face with a sausage, and then I would have to put the book aside and sit very quietly while trying to calm my stomach. This is a tedious way of spending a day, which we sought to remedy with pizza and a DVD of the Simple Life, but Highbrow Mr. West Coast Video told us that they don't have it. So we ended up with Harold and Maude, as well as some free children's movies. My stomach wasn't having it, you know. But later I got some magazines and Doritos and felt much better. So, another year of this, eh?
