Tag Archives: cab driver

bourgeois discontent

Woke this morning vastly earlier than usual.  Indeed, I was up today at the same time that on other days I am just lying down.  The cab driver finally returned yesterday and confirmed what I had not dared to hope—that … Continue reading

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a hundred loves

Out of bed.  Considered writing yesterday (like everyday).  In fact, I just remembered that I had actually opened the Movable Type new entry page.  Never stroked a single key, though.  Some more important diversion (which I can’t recall now) distracted … Continue reading

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call me a cab (driver)

There is nothing like a cab driver to make one want to keep living, …or at least want to clean the house (I have just discovered dust bunnies under my keyboard).  Is sex really supposed to be this good? 

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Doorbell woke me.  Hours ago. 

Doorbell woke me.  Hours ago.  It was Bobby the cab driver, not Bobby the one I love.  Funny, it interrupted a dream of Bobby the one I love:.  He was standing in the sun, turning as if he had just … Continue reading

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