Most of the past week I have pretended to be an oyster. No, I haven't worn a bivalvular home-made shell-costume while wandering the streets of San Francisco, what I mean by that is that I have mostly stayed in when not involved in fiddling with pipes across the Golden Gate Bridge. Occasionally, I have blown bubbles and hummed to myself, as oysters are wont to do.
The week has been both busy and moist.
If you see something evil lurking beneath the surface of the water as you flap your wings across the slough, that will be me.
Best fly faster, I have harpoon.
Largely I have been ignoring the season. Other people's insane drang to spend their life's savings has little impact, and though I have not been there I imagine that the downtown is a seething madhouse.
I do most of my Christmas shopping in July.
Just thought you should know.
Can I gloat? Yes.
Yes I can.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
SALTED DRIED FERMENTED AND RICH
Yesterday afternoon's repast reminded me again why I often eat by myself. But only after I had smoked a pipe and returned home. See, it ...
No comments:
Post a Comment