My database of addresses, however, is woefully incomplete, however, as I have lost half of it with the old hard drive.
So if you want a letter, sound off and PM me your address.
My head is full of goo; I wish to share it.
I'm game - after replying to your last one I really enjoyed the process and sent a few fucked up missives to my friends. PM inc.
IN. :D
Do you still have my address? I want in on this.
PM-ing away.
Sounds awesome. PM-ing.
I haven't received mail from you in a while.
I think I'm due.
Letters hit the mail Monday morning.
Be warned.
I have an umbrella I use just for shit-storms. I haven't received any shit-hail in awhile so HIT ME BABY.
I GOT A LETTER
:hammer:
Roger,
San Antonio sounds like the kind of place where if you drop a match, everything just goes up in a brilliant haze of flame and smoke and everything, even the people, start to bubble and peel back like the wood-grain plastic veneer on a cheap piece of pressboard furniture. Sometimes everything's like that, and then somehow you end up listening to angel junkies in a place you didn't know they could be, or even should be, and everything is somehow all right.
Except that it ISN'T all right; in fact, everything's tilted a little too far and things are sliding around. Somehow a bit of Portland gets into your Tucson, but then what happens? San Diego in your Portland? Boston in your LA? You start getting things mushed up like that and things start swirling, THE WHOLE THING could end up down the drain before there's time to skin a goat or festoon fish from the trees. A stop must be put, Roger, and I may just be the lady to do it.
But there's a catch.
There's always a catch, isn't there? Things can never just go around being easy, or else everyone would do them and we can't have that. I think that I can't get to Tucson without a sizable chunk of crazy, as camouflage. And I don't have TIME for crazy, anymore, what with trying to keep the Bottom from leaking into Portland. So if I want to get to Tuscon, I have to borrow the crazy and ride in on its back, like I did last time with Mr. Language. That way my city doesn't see me leaving, and your city doesn't see me coming until it's way too late and I'm running down the street in my white dress with a bottle of bourbon in my hand.
So I guess if we want to keep Salt Lake City from turning into a vortex swirl with New Orleans, I'd better start vetting some hipsters. One of 'em has to be crazy enough to serve as a pack mule.
Quote from: M. Nigel Salt on March 08, 2013, 07:41:09 PM
Roger,
San Antonio sounds like the kind of place where if you drop a match, everything just goes up in a brilliant haze of flame and smoke and everything, even the people, start to bubble and peel back like the wood-grain plastic veneer on a cheap piece of pressboard furniture. Sometimes everything's like that, and then somehow you end up listening to angel junkies in a place you didn't know they could be, or even should be, and everything is somehow all right.
Except that it ISN'T all right; in fact, everything's tilted a little too far and things are sliding around. Somehow a bit of Portland gets into your Tucson, but then what happens? San Diego in your Portland? Boston in your LA? You start getting things mushed up like that and things start swirling, THE WHOLE THING could end up down the drain before there's time to skin a goat or festoon fish from the trees. A stop must be put, Roger, and I may just be the lady to do it.
But there's a catch.
There's always a catch, isn't there? Things can never just go around being easy, or else everyone would do them and we can't have that. I think that I can't get to Tucson without a sizable chunk of crazy, as camouflage. And I don't have TIME for crazy, anymore, what with trying to keep the Bottom from leaking into Portland. So if I want to get to Tuscon, I have to borrow the crazy and ride in on its back, like I did last time with Mr. Language. That way my city doesn't see me leaving, and your city doesn't see me coming until it's way too late and I'm running down the street in my white dress with a bottle of bourbon in my hand.
So I guess if we want to keep Salt Lake City from turning into a vortex swirl with New Orleans, I'd better start vetting some hipsters. One of 'em has to be crazy enough to serve as a pack mule.
Well, don't wait too long. My daughter just bought tickets to Seaworld. We're in a DESERT.
I'm totally in. I just love getting snail mail from you weirdos. PM incoming.
Sorry for the delay, folks. I've been busy as fuck, and what little time I have is going to LOBB.
I WILL do this. Just not right this second.
It's always better when it's a SURPRISE. :lulz: