So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...
Comments
I see an assortment of blue colors. Hm.
Hope you're doing all right. Lack of sleep would debilitate any human.
I'm sorry for not regularly visiting your blog these days; I'm so busy with packing my stuff and getting ready for my big trip.
Meead, good luck on the big move!
KL, kids are always ordering their parents about, so no doubt Ezra was trying to give me a message. No doubt it involved breasts.
Dark clothes give a special look to little kids. I even like them in black.
Have a awesome work day!