 Wednesday, November 02, 2005
I feel the need. The need for a beer. October always feels like the Niagra river, beautiful and rustic, rushing and hushing while hurling you headlong towards...disaster. But I eggs-asperate. I'm just a bit tahred. (that's the way they say 'tired' down south). Had Bingo Thursday eve, dinner out with AO & J on Friday, my niece, nephew, sister & 'rents on the weekend, and then last night was Trick and/or Treat in which our goal was to not get any chitlins bitten by our barking shepherd dog. Then last night, to placate my wife, was a gouge of television which, as we know, is the least nourishing part of anyone's diet. I'm in reading-beer deficit: I can't recall the last time I read a beer label. I'd ruther some 'oetry. It's amazing how a few words - Orkney, highlands, sea - can provoke a reaction similar to the actual scenes signified: The writer of the highlands left a gaping valley ascending distant mountains playing discalced pipes. Gone from the Orkney Islands the lass from Skara Brae appealed she to our better nature as well as to our worst. • • • • •
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