she is my new darling. cream-framed two-wheeler with dusty spokes. i spent a day throwing names at her in the lounge. monique. eva. marguerite. audrey. delilah. they bounced off, old-fashioned glamour girls littering the floor. i began to despair. until daphne; daphne!
(presents for daphne: a basket. some brakes.)
today i listened to a foreign philosopher rant about kant. he pronounced it karnt. "according to kant, we can't..................." and hazydozy with sleeplessness, all i heard was cunt, cunt, cunt.
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