"you're no rock 'n roll fun, like a party that's over before it's begun..." (Sleater Kinney; learn things, why doncha). ahh, yes, children of all ages, a little quote to start the evening on it merry way. i've got all these boxes stuffed full of memorabilia that i just don't want to throw away. it's like this *stuff* that keeps piling up to eventually bury you when you're eighty three and still lucky enough to be alive. but the irony (bless that Alanis M.) is that it suffocates you to the point of not living beyond, oh say, twenty two. yes, twenty two was a ripe year for me, not to mention Punch 'n Judy, which i won't do. but oh, i've already blown that. anyway, moving on.

i've got moutains to climb here, people! i didn't mean to get all excited like that but we're talking sandhills here. slippin' and a slidin'. it's going to take a decade. who cares really? certainly not this slap happy fool.

i wish i knew what was going on in my neighbor's house. there's a lot of thumping and laughing and jolly-ing about. i'm highly curious. curious enough, you ask, to bore a hole in the wall? mind you, i'm no peeping tina here, as if you've never been tempted. methinks we have no saints among us.

so i see them coming and going with their little buckets. what, pray tell, hides in that bucket? what sort of spinning tale, blackened snout, wriggling fairy holds the answers to all my questions, if only one of them would trip! but they won't as they walk with careful step from car to door to car to door, always those damned buckets frothing forth with tidings and joy. liverwurst and a hex upon them! damn dirty yuppies.

there's only one thing worse than a yuppy. a yuppy with a bucket.