Another morning under the invented menace of Level Orange Alert.
Or is it Alert: Level Orange?
Orange Level Alert.
Level
level alert level orange alert level level orange alert orange level
orange level alert alert level orange orange orange alert level orange
alert orange level level alert level alert alert orange level.
Played
chess again with George in the heavy sidewalk air. He beat me but good
in one game and I came back and won the second, my pawns marching
inexorably, two abreast, toward the scared-out king.
There's
a picture of B's cunt on my computer and I see the tiny thumbnail for
it when I start up or shut down. It's there in a folder of other
miscellanea: my password for eBay, frequent-flier codes, an address for a
long-lost friend. I took it on her digital camera one night. The
following day she titled it "Close Up" and e-mailed it to me. Though
it's tiny the image is incongruous, conveying rosy voluptuousness in the
dreary list of icons for plain text files.
She was raised in Christian Science.