Assassination Anthropology

I do very poorly when it comes to handling animal illness, and Joey has a spring influenza that leads him to behave just like his mother, a prima donna in a melodramatic death yowl. I can't handle it, and would accept veterinarian doping in these instances. I woke my father up at eleven last night, called the emergency hospital, orating helplessness, contacted Tim too early today, look like I've been thrown off a train, mopping up cat puke, trying to stop Vinnie from scolding his brother into a third world war, and everyone is quiet now, peeing and eating as far as I can tell. I feel like giving my notice and letting this company put me in a home so I can just stop trying altogether, born out of monotony, born out of lack of pleasure, or the hard hymn breaking fuck of Jeremy Irons in The French Lieutenant's Woman. I wonder if Irons always has his thumb on his power switch, so evident in his best work, the dynamic and perfectly cultured man that silences broken bodies and sexual orientation issues. Not over endowed with beef steak, but just hard enough, and just tame enough, that he is an alpha prize. For whatever reason, my clitoris is having an extended hot flash, whining uselessly for A-list sex, but if Josie Byzek has an aura of rancid mayonnaise about her auto-immune ailing body, I myself am like a drowned dudong. All Pacific based hunters do to kill this animal is hold its head beneath the waves, so that it cannot breathe.

I'd kill the hunter, without adjudicating whether it is unfair to condemn the human animal for its opportunistic methods of predation.


The possible contact I was going to investigate knocked on my door yesterday, bearing prunes, which I declined. She is a wash as pertains my piece, but Asian, and I am more kindly disposed toward her, despite my history with the residents here, most of them dead. Much like my own, her hair has that frazzled greying look, and an investigation of e-cig prices made me decide I am better off with aeros. Maybe I'll tune into baseball. Litters to clean. If you wonder if it is really that bad, no, it would not be, if I could salvage some self-respect, if Jeremy Irons thought I was worth seducing.