The awesome song playing is by the most lovely Anika DeRaad, Jason Sawatski, and Phil Fredrikson about our Seattle Roadtrip-August 19, 2006
posted by Kaila at 1:25 PM
Very well, where should I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims, like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. A sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical; summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. If I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds. Pretty standard, really.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home