she nodded off in the chair during one of my solioquies about the state of french television personalities.
I was on the couch, it was about 2am and sex was not the first thing on my mind, for once, after consuming some beer. I wasn't feeling great., had been struggling all evening, perhaps as a result of the hot bath taken at half 7. Ice is good for inflamation, heat not so much. Sitting around in chairs isn't great when the verbal level of stimulation relates to village gossip about who's sleeping with who, since when, why, what their father now in a nursing home thinks about it, and what the ex is going to do to 'regle le compte' one of these days (regle le compte = get even)
I've groan [grown surely? ed] weary of these tales of treachery before and hearing it all again I yearned for something more stimulating - what of Musk, white privalidge, X, Trump, Putin, the price of gas and glue, food, the xmas markets underseige, channel crossing raping jihadi hoards, the state of modern 10+year DEI poicies on a dissilussioned yoof, culling cows fer no good reason, ads for the iPhone 17+ and car battery advances hand in hand with planet saving french anti global warming tips. These cultural missives, my staple fare, replaced by down to earth homegrown interpersonal back and forths over money, laziness, and notions of love.
I could go on but someone's just called to buy a bike so I shall just say, I woke Viviane from her doze and said, I'm off. You're going? Yes I said, although she then woke up, made some coffee and I stayed another hour.
I didn't hear from Emmanualle. After our 2nd date, at an antique faire, she didn't invite me back to her new house for a cup of tea (she moved into it in November) and I thought, bolox to it.
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I DON@T BELIeve it. 2d long post in three days wiped by this fuking keyboard. Losing ... [more]