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getting out into the world
May. 3rd, 2006 06:53 pmDiane:
You'd never believe me if I told you who I met a few days ago, and I'm not a cruel man so I'm not going to make you guess. It was a curious man going by the name of Rosencrantz. No, not the uptown jeweller my mother used to swear by, the comtemporary of Hamlet who was fortunate -- or unfortunate -- enough to have warranted his own play. He was quite the character, Diane, and I consider myself fortunate to have enjoyed a bona fide game of questions with him. This island may be many things, some of them far from favourable, but at the very least it is entertaining.
One of its other good qualities is the consistent availability of coffee. Some mornings I'd say it was heaven, if it weren't for the snowstorms, dinosaurs, and lack of anyone I've ever known in life.
My research into the meaning of our collective being here is going well so far, though it's hard to say without a clearer goal in mind. I've certainly found some interesting reads out at the compound, though the relevance of some of them to my line of inquiry is not immediately obvious. The rec room of this compound also seems to be a prime location to meet people interested in having a bit of a chat about, well, life. The universe. Everything, really. A Canadian punk rocker by the name of Joe Dick -- whose name, I confess, I wasn't familiar with -- was particularly enlightening. And a lovely young woman known as Sookie Stackhouse was just the sort of bright, curious, friendly woman I do enjoy spending time with.
The island still isn't inclined to offer up any of its secrets, but I will not cease to pry.
You'd never believe me if I told you who I met a few days ago, and I'm not a cruel man so I'm not going to make you guess. It was a curious man going by the name of Rosencrantz. No, not the uptown jeweller my mother used to swear by, the comtemporary of Hamlet who was fortunate -- or unfortunate -- enough to have warranted his own play. He was quite the character, Diane, and I consider myself fortunate to have enjoyed a bona fide game of questions with him. This island may be many things, some of them far from favourable, but at the very least it is entertaining.
One of its other good qualities is the consistent availability of coffee. Some mornings I'd say it was heaven, if it weren't for the snowstorms, dinosaurs, and lack of anyone I've ever known in life.
My research into the meaning of our collective being here is going well so far, though it's hard to say without a clearer goal in mind. I've certainly found some interesting reads out at the compound, though the relevance of some of them to my line of inquiry is not immediately obvious. The rec room of this compound also seems to be a prime location to meet people interested in having a bit of a chat about, well, life. The universe. Everything, really. A Canadian punk rocker by the name of Joe Dick -- whose name, I confess, I wasn't familiar with -- was particularly enlightening. And a lovely young woman known as Sookie Stackhouse was just the sort of bright, curious, friendly woman I do enjoy spending time with.
The island still isn't inclined to offer up any of its secrets, but I will not cease to pry.
