Friday, August 27, 2004
Taut
I wrecked Don Giovanni. I was too taut with uneasiness. Slided on the notes at the last phrases of both verses. (Heck! Just defenestrate that slut.) One examiner maintained I needed to be tauter with the score for Ballad of Mack the Knife. Albeit the swaying was quite pertinent. And it was mostly a cabaret song. So...
Still, I am utterly disgusted by my performance. Stab me. Stab me.
An unprecedented endeavour on my blog sees the expungement of The Fashion Meter. Apparently, the humour was exceedingly taut. So stilted it was almost wheelchair-bound. I supposed these obiter dicta of haute courte came across as desperately emulous of Bernie, my very candid homosexual friend who writes rather fashionably about RJC boys having fellatio sessions in the "clandestine" toilet cubicles and how he enjoys the chimeria of decorticating the khaki shorts of TCHS boys while disporting himself with a quasi-denuded Julian Hee poster.
Ergo, I do plan to desist from publishing The Fashion Meter anymore. Besides, I find penning about effeminate minister a tad tedious especially if he did introduce some delectable policies...Could be quite stultifying.
And yes, I am currently afflicted by writer's block and a dearth of concupiscence. Vaguely trapped in a taut mental noose. I am afraid there will be no further poetry entries until I have convalesced. Writing verses does despoil one of much inspiration to write almost anything else. Till then.
cuRRent...jer
¶ 1:43 pm
I wrecked Don Giovanni. I was too taut with uneasiness. Slided on the notes at the last phrases of both verses. (Heck! Just defenestrate that slut.) One examiner maintained I needed to be tauter with the score for Ballad of Mack the Knife. Albeit the swaying was quite pertinent. And it was mostly a cabaret song. So...
Still, I am utterly disgusted by my performance. Stab me. Stab me.
An unprecedented endeavour on my blog sees the expungement of The Fashion Meter. Apparently, the humour was exceedingly taut. So stilted it was almost wheelchair-bound. I supposed these obiter dicta of haute courte came across as desperately emulous of Bernie, my very candid homosexual friend who writes rather fashionably about RJC boys having fellatio sessions in the "clandestine" toilet cubicles and how he enjoys the chimeria of decorticating the khaki shorts of TCHS boys while disporting himself with a quasi-denuded Julian Hee poster.
Ergo, I do plan to desist from publishing The Fashion Meter anymore. Besides, I find penning about effeminate minister a tad tedious especially if he did introduce some delectable policies...Could be quite stultifying.
And yes, I am currently afflicted by writer's block and a dearth of concupiscence. Vaguely trapped in a taut mental noose. I am afraid there will be no further poetry entries until I have convalesced. Writing verses does despoil one of much inspiration to write almost anything else. Till then.
cuRRent...jer
¶ 1:43 pm
