He printed a map of Narnia off
Wikipeida, for fun's sake. After
a few times, he became much more at ease.
He's waiting for his sex surrogate. Some
islands were off the map; he wasn't annoyed.

Standing on a stool so she'd look tall—she
photographed herself against a white wall.

He watched his girlfriend brush her teeth
as if she's playing the violin. Too early,
she went to bed. He chanted: we eat air tonight,
we eat dog hair tonight, we eat gravel with
lemon juice, tonight we eat computer files, we
eat Capital Letters, tonight we eat depression.
She said: please sleep.

At a dinner gathering, she pretended
to be a noble woman from the Tang
Dynasty. She had powdered her face very
white, dyed the lips crimson and dotted two
beauty spots on one cheek. She displayed more
bosoms. But she had no horse to ride on.

All night he farted, after swallowing
a piece of paper. He had made a list
of things he spent money on to present
to his girlfriend. Her key turned, the door let
in her perfume, and then hair. He's too
scared, he threw the paper into his mouth.



                     
                      Libraries


Me: I arrange my books according to their height.
You: Poetry gets on a certain set of shelves.
Me: The short ones are shelved at the bottom.
You: Most of my bookcases have the taller shelves toward the bottom.

Me: Because of my arrangement of books, sometimes a novel is put next to a dictionary.
You: I am happy with my library. It is a systematic retreat. I never put
together cookery books and poetry.
Me: I don't cook.
You: I don't actually have cookery books.

Me: You Don't cook?
You: Let's not get carried away, we need to solve the library problem first. My way or yours?
Me: We will need cookery books in the new house. We'll take turns and cook.
You: I don't cook.