Castles Don't Write Mysteries

A man with a reflective turn of mind, walking through an exhibition of this sort, will not be oppressed, I take it, by his own or other people's hilarity--Thackeray, location 11

I never really prefaced children, which any regular viewers I have know is both a lie and a truth. Once I wasn't exiting university with a husband of choice, I never prefaced the risks of pregnancy, and aborted the idea of motherhood for a career, and for writing. Little patience with little humans; it is not really a regret, as my maternal drives are more suited to terrorizing poachers and other instances of animal cruelty which is unintentionally caused by hoarders (some of those are female) and aggressive human males. People who butcher silverbacks should be put to death. Fossey's murdered spirit offers zealous support, sotto voce. People who kill kitties, ah; people who kill kitties are zoned off, breed apart, not much of a surprise that my Russian viewers have vanished. 

Mother Russia still believes in empire, in an economy that hunts and gathers, to channel George Will. Did the lengthy pause for coffee prove disruptive to my train of thought? Families aren't a beneficial panacea when other system modalities fail. I do not think even Ed, my lone account follower, realizes that I badgered my mother with wroth tantrums to get me the fuck out of Riverside Presbyterian from my earliest days when the company shuttled me over from the Temple campus environs. Marie attempts to pacify me with the belief that her brother my padre, will provide deliverance. This fable from my earliest days of my father's responsibilities does more detriment to my health than not. My father is nearly 80. Before my mother left him he was almost a millionaire. The IRS decided to destroy him fifteen years ago. Deference only partially weighs in on my speak no evil stance. I do not know what he did or how he did it when it comes to tax code violations.

The state of Pennsylvania considers me a violation simply for being alive at this point. Trudy and I are supposed to discuss my transfer request. I do not want to discuss it. Presby has gnawed on my soul, in conjunction with Septa and my disability center, since I was 23 years old. I do not know where you are in your life, but think about that. A 23 year old university graduate spit out like gristle in a 20 block radius of a city founded by Quakers. Philadelphia might as well be run by Joseph Stalin.