TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile
I spent the day inside. This is not new. I have toiled in theoryland for the last two weeks, venturing out only once, dazed over a pint in a chip-redolent pub, to find out what manner of costume I would wear in the parade on Saturday. Neither leprechaun nor faery, whew. Peter's sister told us about her stolen purse, which was found the next day with poo inside. The story's lesson: keep your money in your shoe... or use a purse too small to poo in.