I want to thank my sister Renee from making the awesome Jasper pictures. If you would like let her know how much you like them, here is her e-mail.
People keep writing me asking why I hardly update anymore. Look, I don’t know how much clearer I can make this for you. We are through. I ended it in January and there is no chance of reconciliation at this point. Sure, we had our good times. Playing footsie at Applebee’s, climbing that banana tree, summers in Rome. But those times are over, you have to stop dwelling on the past and move on.
Don’t play fey with me. I know you have been seeing other writers like Pantsfish, Maxnmona, Acetone, Bobservo, and Docevil. You dirty slut.
I’m sorry I didn’t mean that. I don’t want this to get more messy than it already is. Let’s just be friends, okay?
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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