Dinner on Sunday
Oh I know you wanna know what I'm having for dinner Sunday. You been wanting to ask me all damn day. I know what I'm gonna have for dinner on Sunday already, and I know it's good 'cause I ate it Thursday night and it was great then. Guess what it is. It's meatloaf. I made it, I eat it. Thank you for not wagering.
12 Comments:
But what are you doing for Thanksgiving?
Thanksgiving is all about the bird. The big bird.
I hate the bird. I prefer the pig.
You didn't come to dinner on Thanksgiving. You probably won't be able to attend on Christmas, either, even though you've been invited. You will not get out of a dinner invitation, though. The invitation, redeemable on any day, is still open and must be responded to whether sooner or later. Please get well. Many people are waiting for you to do so, and biting their nails and even their knuckles off all the while.
How are we going to be able to hold forks with no fingertips?
Out of reflex and habit I keep looking to find you... Continuing old habits like looking at your blog to see if there's a new entry, looking at your website to see if there are changes, (even though I know full well where you are and that it AIN'T in front of any computer, that's for sure) and I keep thinking the e-mail bearing your name is from you when I know full well that it is from Kim (and of course I'm glad to hear from her), but for a second, or rather, a split-second, I think "!!!" and then, "***sigh***". So now I'm posting messages here so I can pretend you're reading them, and well, I guess you will, because as soon as I hit "publish," I can't unpublish it, so here's to sending a letter and waiting for it to be opened. :oD Sort of like the old-fashioned post-office method, but with no stamps or envelopes. I haven't gone so far as to log onto instant messenger and expect to see you there, so see? I'm keeping my sanity, really, I am!
I'm just plumping up your journal until you're able to add some new entries. Boy, won't you be pleased to see a string of space-filling comments!
Oh, god. This is just too sad. I came here, too, thinking someone capped it off, wrote a good joke, told us the punch line. But it wasn't like him to play practical jokes.
Shit.
I miss you already, my friend. I miss you every minute. Give 'em hell up there.
doggy
Maybe now you will finally go check the Merrill's mail and get that viola stand that Henry is expecting from Germany.
Oh my. The world is a lot more drab now. Are you planning on reincaranting or anything? I hope so. We need The King of Peru.
DSB
so anyway the chair broke apart and was flying around the room, and then they started talking dirty about christ,.......who else can i say that to? my nanny ate a tree part...shit who alse would know the meaning of that 1? I hope someday we can do it all again, I bet heaven is like recording in your basement.
m o v i n
j u g
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KING OF PERU:
It's been almost a year, and I really really really really miss you. I hope you are duckpin bowling and rocking and rolling, Big Man. I love you.
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