Where Have You Gone, Joe Dimaggio, With That Gun in Your Hand?

[cbertsch]

I've been meaning to write something more substantive here for some time. But the end-of-semester frenzy, together with other stresses of both a personal and professional nature, made it impossible for me to find the time. And, just when I was finding the time, I screwed up my leg in such a way that the most painful thing for me to do has been sitting at the computer for an extended period of time. Not to mention that my body's antibiotic-aided attempts to fight off infection have periodically drained me, at different junctures throughout the day, to the point where I fall asleep wherever I am. So, my dear readers, you can thank my straitened circumstances for not having to read strange musings on the meaning of May '68 for today's Left or any of the micro-stories I've been planning to compose. Be warned, though, that I'll be sharing material of that potentially mind-numbing nature as soon as I'm 100% healed and caught up on the various tasks I've deferred. In other words, around the time the Olympics starts in China.

Comments

[quuf.livejournal.com]

You know, I'm very angry at that fuckheaded motorist in the Miata. I don't wish anything particularly horrible on her, just something colorful and regional—perhaps a Gila monster could bite her toe off as she sleeps. Or her little retroussé nose.

Anyway, hang in there.

[cbertsch.livejournal.com]

Sorry I missed this comment earlier. It made me happy, even though the Miata lies further back in my past now. If my leg were better, I could laugh at the situation.