In which FHC returns to his usual domesticated despair

My American existence is mostly about polishing shoes, picking up dry cleaning, ordering groceries, replying to Mark/Ryan H. that “no, we really cannot hang out tonight” (let alone play kickball together) and fighting the natural aging process. It is also about managing multiple online profiles, writing short witty e-mails to people I previously met through my online profiles, and going through the lyrics of thousands of new indie songs that Tim K. forwards my way. Of course, there is the professional thingy that is filling some time too, and the endless time-wasting to-do lists (to neutralize the Klonopin side-effects) and the binge drinking on Friday and Saturday night. I am painfully clueless about the meaning of it all. I am not saying it has anything to do with the US, I am blaming it on being gay, self-centered and uncaring. Maybe I’ll get a puppy in April.

Happy birthday to Russ W. (who already got LL as a present). OH… and Mark H. -- the rich, successful lawyer (and a responsible adult too) who is rumored to have very large, thick feet -- wowed the crowd again last week-end with his charming personality and witty banter.  I really see good things in store for him! See you at the gym.

Comments

[Ray]

but fhc, puppies don't eat klonopin. well... at least not only klonopin.

[Russ W]

Thank you FHC, I look forward in seeing you this weekend at the Manor House.

[Mark H.]

"Solemnity flows out of men naturally; but laughter is a leap. It is easy to be heavy: hard to be light. Satan fell by the force of gravity."

-- The great (British, Catholic) writer G.K. Chesterton, who always spoke sense and changed modern English prose in the process