The scrim of rolling blinds gives a beige hue to everything outside, the flailing trees and clouds, which seem to have a Fragonard hue today. Could today be that lovely?
Just now I said to the dog, "That's not Daddy-- that's the lesbians." Because we heard a door slam in the hallway. Because Daddy is out hitting golf balls. Striking them. Beating them.
Right now, I'm working on a story about a lost dog, another about two old gay men, and one about a boy who has a crush on a neighbor who's wife has become debilitated.
Right now, I'm thinking there's nothing as lovely as darkly haired thighs.
And wondering if I should buy the new Lady Gaga, even if I think her new songs are too "message-y"?
And why "debilitated" sounds right but doesn't look right.
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