i chortle as patton does backflips in his grave. mark likes it; says if there was a gay patton it would be him.
lead on, mark. lead on.
exhibit 1. the bringing up of something unrelated to the discussion
i am. very.
it fucking rained last night. i secretly hoped for it to suddenly freeze and watch the world turn into a rink of ice. how pleasant.
What the hell happened Frank? What the hell? WHAT THE HELL?
Eve, calm down. This sort of stuff happens.
Yeah and I expected something like this to happen to someone else, not Paul of all people. Christ, what the HELL was he doing? I could just kill– [realizing what she has just said, she breaks down into a chair].
How can you just sit there? Paul could be dead. Do you understand? What the hell…
And why are you so fucking calm? You have no idea what the hell could be happening to him as we speak. He’s probably dead; is that what you wan---
you seem to think coherence is necessary. there is nothing necessary. one day all of this will come together and make some sense and not end up as a macauly culkin publication.
the plot sickens, indeed.
is there something any more sacred than a vase of flowers. they go untouched until they die. i wish i was that.
and i leave on a positive note. the sun shines, the wind blows, and it all is going to change, enjoy.