Wednesday, November 02, 2005

The gangster's canary bird

Now that I finally have a few days off I am beset by a complete lack of inspiration. Therefore, instead of making up stories about places that don’t exist, I’ll give you a quick situation report from Finnmärck:

Sara is in the kitchen, obviously. It is already pitch dark outside, so we put candles in the windows. Like an idiot, I have forgotten the password to my laptop, and consequently have to use hers. Sure hope I don't catch the cooties.

I have been listening to radio broadcasts from my worthless little home country all day, and as a result I have become what I believe the kids today call emo. I have even written a poem about it, based on the Word thesaurus. Here it comes:


This is Ripley, last survivor of the Nostromo, signing off.

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