old new guestbook dland GLINT



My blood runs cold; My memory has just been sold; My angel is a centerfold.

Oh, yeah. And three chapters of “Fight Club” at my leisure this afternoon. Leave me alone. I don’t care if my reading schedule is out of sync with Hollywood’s cop-out-book-to-movie-idea timeline. Ok, though. Edward, Bradley, and Helena did up that flick something fierce.

It is 65 and sunny in Seattle. That’s Seattle, folks, the reigning rain capital last I checked. But as disgruntled as that weather news has made me, I smile to listen to its source: Shout out to you, John In The Morning . Listen, love, support. I do. Good advice for any healthily symbiotic relationship as far as I’m concerned.

Speaking of: I feel so dirty. I feel so baaaaad, and you know what? It feels good. I knew that it would the minute I could finally pick up the paper and leaf through the ads without feeling like I shouldn’t. It was a simple acceptance of the following: I want it. I can get it. I deserve it. So you think I’ve been naughty? Then spank me. Harder.

It feels just fine—no, better than fine, positively floppy hat and mysterious dark glasses sneaky fine—to be duplicitous and go out to try to get me some.

Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson? That question waits until tomorrow.

reflect - reinvent ....rayclaire@gmail.com... what i used to think... what i hear... what i see... where i'd like to be...

the black apple... the girl who... sarah brown... thunderpie... evany... jenny b harris... posie... claude le monde... artsy... fartsy... jeff... random person in texas... another rachel... smitten kitchen... more of me... still more of me... even more of me...and yet still more of me...more of me but not for free...

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