Of a song. That is my song. And is a song that will be played a week from tonight in Norfolk in front of people who will probably think that it is too clever. Because it is that. Clever. At least in the last minute or 90 seconds or so. But I do not know if it is good. So you can decide.
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Also, I am extremely unfond of Blogger's new "features," which...ugh, I'm just too tired now to complain about it. Perhaps tomorrow.
i sincerely do not know what you are doing here. are you lost? were you
looking for your delicate calico cat, and did you follow her up two flights of stairs
to this room? she is not here. she was here, yes. we gave her a warm bowl of milk, we talked with her about campaign finance reform for a time, and then she bid us good day. i believe she was
going to the post office two blocks down, but i don't quite recall.
for surely you did
not find your way from prinsiana, the least traveled site on
the internet. if you did, though, perhaps you are looking for humor. perhaps you are looking for profundity. perhaps you are looking for answers.
i'm sorry, but you shall go naught-for-three.
