<!-- --><style type="text/css">@import url(https://www.blogger.com/static/v1/v-css/navbar/3334278262-classic.css); div.b-mobile {display:none;} </style> </head><body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d11903143\x26blogName\x3dLacking+Rhyme+and+Reason\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dSILVER\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://phantomtollbooth.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://phantomtollbooth.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-6258411686423120118', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>


I am not even going to write a great deal about Monday because it would take me forever to figure out how to describe that morning and I still wouldn't get it right. It will just have to do when I tell you that I spent the morning with a work crew who were cutting a door through the very solid wall in my office (a door which is at this very moment a large slab of wood over a hole). The crew was lead by a man named Boss, and consisted of him, Little John, John, and Poodle. Mostly they just sat at the computers and watched commercials, checked their e-mail, looked for campers to buy etc. I only saw them actually do an hour's work in the 5 hours that I was here. And it wasn't until then that I realized that I had dreamed about the whole thing, names and all, a year before. It freaked me out.

Tuesday was a day.

Yesterday was a lonely day, and there was nothing I could do about it. Sometimes there is just loneliness and you have to get on with it. I saw a girl standing outside of the library for five minutes in the afternoon, and I fell in love with her. She was tall and thin and beautiful, and her eyes were three-quarters closed against the sunlight. She had bangs like all beautiful girls do these days, and turned to look at me every so often while I just sat and tried to pretend that I wasn't floored by her. No one that I know has ever seen her before, which says something in a town like this, and she may be lost to me forever. Which is fine. I was probably only in love with the idea of her, and perhaps not the real, sweaty flesh of her. But the thought of a drop of sweat on a woman that beautiful and graceful is to me the finest poem in the world. I'm getting lightheaded just thinking about it. I think I might have frightened her away when I took her picture from a distance. I am a coward in the face of such guileless beauty. I could never talk to Ilisu, for instance. I would probably pass out or throw up...or both. But if I ever see this girl again I will go with fate and attempt a conversation, and pray that she doesn't mind a little vomit on her shoes.


Bunny Mcintosh
Kyle Weekend
Midnight Mailman
Seymore and Dos Boheinde
Patrick Drury
Squirrel Power
Jay V
Etienne Aida
Jason Sho Green
The Onion
Instant Message
Weblog Commenting and Trackback by HaloScan.com