"That is all I wanted!" -- Marthe Keller, dramatic flair
Whether it is Mrs Florrick senior with her post-stroke Cuban nurse, or Marthe Keller behaving like a grand duchess playing off Aaron Eckhart and a Parisian actress of Tunisian descent, video entertainment integrates care giving as a contrivance that helps the elderly stay on their feet, but this isn't what happened to me. A power chair failed, and then I was tortured for the better part of seventeen months by what is now being termed the pink police in intellectual circles, just another nail nail in the coffin of personal liberty, part and parcel of the defeat of free speech Jamie Kirchick so eloquently expresses sotto voce in The Washington Examiner. Right after that link, he tweets a politico link about the dark side of gay innuendo, to which my private smirk is a deft act of self-depreciation.
I am supposed to go to Magee Riverfront later on this afternoon with the paraprofessional whose first base transference and a hedge of tongue was a mistake. I cannot pity his cognitive and self-limitations too much, as I thank god sexual intercourse did not come to pass. I hate the man, not particularly sanguine about our stroll to the hospital for the courtesy van to Magee's Riverfront location. I do not really want to go. This poorly fitted Quantum via Mainline Medical isn't their fault, and even if they're willing to rectify the problem, the correction will be lengthy, arduous, and I am already barely able to maintain continence over the course of these nullifying seventeen months. With the way Galahad and I presently engage, we may not make it as is. His automobile has failed, and he is therefore under more duress, and onward. No contrivance here, no holistic pair bonding via Bryan Cranston's re-packaging of a French original. Barring a coronary, I'll be back this evening.
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