Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...



It's now early on the morning of the 4th of April, my flight is set to depart in less than six hours, I'm sitting in the Butterworths' apartment, and I've yet to pack. I find I have less and less to say and more and more I ought to listen to. French films are weird. Michael Butterworth would be a part of an awkward triumvirate, and I don't mean him and his two brothers. Speaking of M.J. Butterworth, my Manager needs to do some work while I'm gone and earn his keep. I sent 'Drew that package, but I forgot to include the one thing I'd originally intended to send. I know, I know, I haven't really shot anything in a while...I think it comes down to the fact that I'm becoming far less satisfied with what ends up being captured through the lens. French films are really weird. What to roast, what to roast? I need to call Dr. Draper. The O'Neals and the Cavies are in San Francisco, a short hop from a visit to Sweet Maria's. 'Tis a most enjoyable thing to remind JVizzle that her name tag is still sitting on my monitor at work. The Ball & Chain has been serving well, it has. The Point...she waits...

posted by Bolo | 2:03 AM
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