Wednesday, June 18, 2008
I lost my boxcutter. Er heißt Rodrigo. He probably slipped out of my pocket on campus somewhere.
When regular people lose something dear to them, they experience feelings. A Lauree does not have feelings, but rather an ever-fluctuating pool of misery. Rodrigo has left a vacuum in that pool that cannot possibly be filled.
May Rodrigo slice the hand of the next person to pick him up. I'll miss his love-bite.
Labels: boxcutter, feelings, misery
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 8:03 PM]