Dance in the Full Moon

O, the Frailty of Memory

Thursday, May 6, 2010

5.7

This is my 112 post. Sorry, the last one was onehundredandelventh.
(This is my eleventy-first birthday! Alas, it is too short a time to spend among such excellent and admirable hobbits. I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.)
I can't think, but it's not because of drugs or nothin'. I wish it was, 'cuz then I'd have an excuse. Naw, my only explanation is lack of dental hygeine. And you don't have to try to puzzle that out; it doesn't make sense. I always think back to that day and wonder: what went so terribly wrong as to bring me to this lowly state? But it never helps, because I can't think, so I can't puzzle out what went wrong to make me unthinkable, and so I don't know what to fix so I can think again, and then my head hurts, and that's the end of that.

Suggestions?
(And Proudfoots.
PROUDFEET!)

9 comments:

  1. YAY BILBO!!!!! ^_^

    I never want to hear you say "lack of dental hygiene" again. My mom's a hygienist, and she'd have a heart attack.

    PROUDFOOTS! SO MUCH BETTER!

    Think back to what day? Are you Frodo? (Please be Frodo.)

    You're unthinkable. It's okay. Just... do some reading. Or just write. That's what I did to come up with the idea that is on my blog right now so go read it and comment on it before I explode. I made myself write, and I did, and then it got me thinking, and then I wasn't unthinkable anymore (just crazy).

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  2. OKAY I WILL GO READ IT WHICH ONE IS IT OR WILL I JUST BE ABLE TO TELL?

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  3. I BET YOU COULD TELL AND IT'S REALLY NOT THAT AWESOME AND I NEVER ACTUALLY POSTED THE STORY (JUST PLOT).

    AND NO, I'M NOT SORRY FOR SHOUTING AT YOU OVER THE INTERNET.

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  4. I just realized what bothered me about this post. Eleventy-first. Yeah. Now it's complete.

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  5. It's right there. Up at the top, in the beginning of the quote. I don't know how you missed it.

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  6. Guess I must have skimmed. I do that sometimes. Speedreading (speed-reading? speed reading?) does that to you.

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  7. I'm still looking for a better way to do that emphasis thing. The little guy in a pink sweater who works in that giant cavity above my eyes keeps slapping me when I try to use periods.

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  8. The little guy in the pink sweater who lives in the open space above my eyes keeps slapping me when I emphasize with sentence fragments. He's very persistent.

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