is it just a matter of becoming old and feeble when a yellow (very early Sinter Klaas) package arrives from home, containing socks, a sweater, fingerless gloves with an optional and velcroable mitten sleeve (perfect for computer work and/or violin torture outside), and some publications—and, as such, is exactly the stuff about which i've been dreaming for weeks?
makes me think that said parcel could have contained underwear and i would have been joyful.
unprecedented, too: that i did not wait until The Actual Day (ah, glorious, constitutive expectation) for its opening, although this occurred under significant animated and exclamation-pointed duress.
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3 comments:
> fingerless gloves with an optional and
> velcroable mitten sleeve (perfect for
> computer work and/or violin torture outside)
Cf. your the earlier post:
> the small part (which he *did* name, but
> which i cannot now recall; the remarkable
> phenomenon, delicately articulated
> through [wee nameless part] is,
> i now see, the one upon which, perhaps, our
> very existence rests)
which reads like halfway decent free verse when you throw in the line breaks.
> makes me think that said parcel could have
> contained underwear and i would have been
> joyful.
Oh?
like a good editor or an even better love, you transform my morass into something legible.
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