"What do we do now?"--Redford in his handsome square jawed Senate movie
I'm bushed. Ought to get on the ball, but I'm bushed, not eating from stress, guess I am now falling into Project Share's indigence category,. Epitaph? Spastic dowager disgraced and fallen by poor domestic management, uniting women of all ethnicities against her now willful indifference to good housekeeping, impaction idling while she charges, writes pithy trinkets, needs some coffee, probably going to be arrested, incarcerated, for refusal to comply with Presby's corporate office.
All her life, the good little soldier, now look at her. Another landlord has no reason to accept me, even if they too are under 811 or 202 contract. Credit rating long sunk by default.Trudy Richardson, doing the time honored classic minority shuffle while I quarreled, attempted to imply I did not realize the extent of my mental health problems. Psychiatry is the field it is today largely on the basis of socio-economic status. That holds true even in a rising third world power like India, and I have no idea where I'm going to land, forcing myself here?, but my indifference outweighs Protestant profiteering at the expense of my suffering. I may not be enthralled by Henry Miller's risque rawness in his Tropic memoirs, but he has a point. Being able to live in peace. It must be wonderful.
Nicholson, Redford, Eastwood, Morgan Freemen when they die they represent the last significant A list stars who made up my tabloid lexicon. I really don't know yours.
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