who?
twentieth july | ten post meridiem
I / I survived / Without British women / In my life
Ahem. The day before spending nine hours with my extended family was apparently NOT the day to give up drinking. I made it, but not without a supreme struggle against the most heroic boredom man or beast has ever faced. Only two good things came of this particular eternity under the sun. The first was my grandpa in those huge wraparound over-the-glasses shades and an indieboi t-shirt that said TWINKIES in pink letters across the front. WHY did I not bring my camera! The other was this news clipping my grandma gave me. It's a story about my great-to-the-nth-power grandpa, an Iowa sheriff in 1862, and a misadventure of his - "Needless to say, he must have been a very red-faced sheriff".
I had a friend in Seattle who did an amazing Jimmy Stewart impression, except he would only do Things Jimmy Stewart Would Never Say, such as "Do it again... whoooorrrrre". I was so disappointed to find he'd stolen this from a Dana Carvey routine.
Bored, bored, bored.
See?
fig. 1: the ennui of modern life
(J. took this in LA last August. I was actually not ennui'd then. Nor drunk.)