And then I found myself trapped in a cafe with the most drab music, it was like something out of a terrible nightmare, stealing all of the energy that I'd built up over the course of the day. I had twenty minutes to spare. It didn't seem long enough at first, but then I realised that the dire music would dilate those twenty minutes and I'd have an hour or so to spare.
The music stole the nonsense and suddenly sense started to fall out in the most boring and predictable manner. The dots started to find themselves arriving at the right time, and the commas appeared in the right place. Apostrophes are always placed correctly, as this is the difference between the average idiot and the above-average idiot, and nudity here is not stylish but just plain stupid and rude. These people claim to be artistic. My only wish is that "art" was a harder word to spell.
And I had no clue that when I imagined myself sitting here typing in Italian for no obvious reason that I'd actually have transferred the thought somehow into the drink I was consuming, leaving the text that I was producing to be consumed without the usual shouts of "Bastardo!" coming my way for choosing to write appalling phrases in languages that few people seem willing to learn.
But then, if you don't know how to use an apostrophe, then I couldn't possibly imagine how you'd go about learning another language.
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So far this year, I've tried "Homemade Lemonade", "Authentic Indian Lemonade", "Sicilian Lemonade", and R White's Lemonade. Among other lemonades that I can't recall, or which lacked the "Lemonade" description in their name. And where has this got me?
There is no conclusion to be drawn here, only money.
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Nonsense flew out of my fingers all day long, as a reaction to the diabolical state of my house and of my life at the moment. Likeyougiveafuck. I'm going to dinner and I'm going to eat three courses.
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