lark

I was raised near the Atlantic by bootleggers who were good with a story and bad with money management, and consequently I always had more than enough sand and not enough fresh vegetables. Scurvy bound, I learned how to build sandcastles.

Today I am a successful mortgage banker in the cold middle-west, and I own a house made of wood and bricks that smells of cinnamon and nutmeg and warm things. On colder nights, when the dry wind howls and the sky clings fast to its snow, I think often of my past and wonder if the sea still smells of fish and distillation.

None of the above was true, nor none of the following.

Texts

(no subject) (re: Multilateral Slee[x]perimentation Research Team)

posted by lark on February 7th, 2011 2:28 AM

mea culpa. i blame my humanities degree. :)

this is an old task, but... (re: Multilateral Slee[x]perimentation Research Team)

posted by lark on February 7th, 2011 2:27 AM

collaboration? :)

(no subject) (re: Alphabet Soup)

posted by lark on April 23rd, 2007 9:01 PM

Yay, Zizek!

darkaardvark.... (re: Player Photograph)

posted by lark on April 22nd, 2007 9:05 AM

well, thank you. :)

(no subject) (re: Cyclothymia? Euthymia?)

posted by lark on April 16th, 2007 7:41 PM

I think I'd start seeing another doctor! ;)

(but only socially, of course) *bad-dum-ching*