it's over. move to somnia.

(prev) i kiss boys (next)

 
N.B.

No, I'm not depressed. Just kind of sickly. Of course, whenever I hear the word "sickly," I get a mental picture of a thin little boy sitting up in bed (and of course the beddings are some unpleasant color like pale yellow) in a damp room, waiting for Mummy to come and put a cool cloth to his forehead. The phone rings and the doctor (because fantasy doctors who don't make house calls at least have the compassion to call you at home) announces that the young boy has tuberculosis (but of course he calls it something antiquated like "consumption"). Picture, if you will, the illustrations from The Phantom Tollbooth if you need help conjuring the lad.

So I'm just a little sickly and discursive. Of course, "discursive" is an interesting word, too, being one of those crazy vowel-alternators: serene-serenity, divine-divinity, etc., only this time the spelling changes, too. Discourse. Discursive. Analogous to "pronunciation," which (I have learned from experience) is a hard word to tell somebody he's not saying right. (Go on, imagine it. Who's on first, eh?)

I'm sickly, I'm discursive, and I even approach being patronizing. At least my senior English teacher in high school made a point of explaining that the a is long when you're shopping and short when you're snotty.

But she didn't put it so succinctly.
peachy as always, Mike at 6:51 PM