There are more dangerous addictions than online Scrabble.
There are sadder lonelinesses than sleeping solo because your coughing wakes up your partner.
There are more extravagant items to covet than a winter coat from TOAST
that costs so far above the clothes budget it’s in fantasy land, especially when one has a perfectly good winter coat already (but still I covet the one from TOAST – it is so me.)
And there are bleaker books than Per Petterson’s I Curse the River of Time, but not ones I want to read in bed while feeling slightly under par. His writing is good, like Raymond Carver’s, but Raymond Carver’s always makes me want to slit my wrists. Think on. (As Dave’s mother would say.)
Saturday, October 22, 2011
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