Indecision: First, about how to introduce itself; And now, about taking the third seat an intruding in on this meeting of friends (instead of simply taking their orders?)
Polite of Choan to make eye-contact (inviting their participation) though, (^ -.-^) she recently(?) does seem to stare at whoever or whatever is ahead of her when she speaks of herself.
Pete Rogan
All bar conversations are like this: Suspended in time and causation, separated from the material world by the ineffable immaterial, and talking of things that might once have had meaning elsewhere, at some time, but now are nothing more than remembrance and regret. The scent of lost opportunity, lost love, lost dignity, and lost contentment hangs thick and plangent, but is no more real than the space between you and the world. You can’t even breathe it. As Vaughn Bod? once said, “I is lost. At last.”
The Coyotes around here are willing to hang around if there is food, maybe she wasn’t feeding Ruddock enough.
Just messily eating would probably be enough.
Like eating a sandwich so big and unwieldy that plenty of stuffins fall to the floor.
Turns out, the real empathy is the sloppy sandwich we ate along the way.
He knows her intimately back. (And her back intimately.)
I wonder what that lantern is hanging from.
Probably the floor. Big 4D torus room.
The bottom of the bartop they’re sat at, perhaps?
The IDEA of a ceiling.
The chain is made of intertron.
You think there’s -really- a lantern there?
Have you seen the tv series FROM? Because I could very much see that lamp as from FROMville. (As it’s called.)
I love Demitri!!
Indecision: First, about how to introduce itself; And now, about taking the third seat an intruding in on this meeting of friends (instead of simply taking their orders?)
Polite of Choan to make eye-contact (inviting their participation) though, (^ -.-^) she recently(?) does seem to stare at whoever or whatever is ahead of her when she speaks of herself.
All bar conversations are like this: Suspended in time and causation, separated from the material world by the ineffable immaterial, and talking of things that might once have had meaning elsewhere, at some time, but now are nothing more than remembrance and regret. The scent of lost opportunity, lost love, lost dignity, and lost contentment hangs thick and plangent, but is no more real than the space between you and the world. You can’t even breathe it. As Vaughn Bod? once said, “I is lost. At last.”
… and not just in bars.