Noonan McKane wrote:Wash n' wear, suitable for all occasions, formal or informal.
Every day brings fresh fruit, worse news, unreliable counsel and fashion tips; Lifestyle guidelines, updated timetables, messages and unrelated; I may already have won a thousand pounds, there may be a new Jerusalem; Descending from the sky. They won't repair my old machine because it's obselete; A brand new one could cost me much less than I think. Thank you, doctor, but no. I only ever get sick when you visit isn't that damnedable?
The only price that stays the same is the one that I pay for whatever it is that I did that they can not forgive. I only hear half of what's said in the hall and it's driving me mad to believe that I'm only being kept 'cause I'm cheap. The leaflets they deliver don't say as much; But I know things are changing. The sun is the same in a relative way and the universe is random, chaotic and perpetually expanding; But brown seems to be the new black.
Every few months they redecorate. Alter the clocks, reconfigure the religious icons and play Beatles records. They offer to wash me though I always refuse. The lottery rolls over and you could cut the atmosphere with a knife. Those who are random and scattershot are freshly informed for their own safety. I keep telling them, that isn't my sister; Don't listen to her! What the hell am I paying you people for?
Every day brings fresh fruit. Every few months they redecorate.
I don't really have anything to add to this; I just wanted, for once, to be the first person to misappropriate a piece by Noonan McKane. Do I get paid? Do I fuck.
I bet "Nineteen Eighty Four" wouldn't have been half as succesful if Orwell had been contractually obliged to publish all his previous work under eight or nine different names.
In the Reader's Fucking Digest.
Bitter? You got it, citizen.
