Late St. Patrick’s day limericka
Upon reading, in the course of one’s daily researches, the following spell to keep a love true:
“Wear has no hanna oil, anoint your lover’s right big toe with controlling oil, carry adam and eve root in a red flannel bag with a piece of parchment paper with lover’s name written 7 times on it in doves blood ink, fill the rest of the bag with verain [sic] and carry on your person.”
A dear little witch named Savannah
Declared, “Though I’ve tried has no hanna,
And my flannel bag’s red
With the doves that have bled
To invest my proscriptions with mana,
“I’ve my doubts re: the secondmost notion
That’s advanced in the course of this potion,
Viz.: anointing the toe
Of one’s putative beau
With a potently sorcerous lotion.
“Though not certainly inefficacious,
(For the realm of the possible’s spacious)
I’ll confess, to my mind
It’s less likely to bind
Than a method less oddly pugnacious.
“To ameliorate this infusion,
And avoid some potential confusion,
I’d amend, not the act
(Which is helpful, in fact),
But the choice of anointed protrusion.”
Hang on, wasn’t that written by Savannah (Laura Shadowmoon in OD)?
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*grin* That’s me. Sorry, I forgot anyone was aware of both and didn’t know that.
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I was hoping that might be the case but wasn’t sure. =) Tra la lally.
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And here I’d thought the art of confining to a form was lost among shithole coffee-shop overflow. I can’t remember the last time I read something that I respected like this. Talent. That’s what that takes. Good for you.
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ryn: Because no one ever believes someone like me over someone like Frank. Ever. Someone once called me “sarcaustic” – like sarcastic, but can cause damage to painted surfaces.
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He’s a fucking mechanic, not a dealer. And he’s forty. And everything he said about me was probably true anyway, he doesn’t even need to exaggerate. And I’m not going. Anyway, I’m going to see John for lunch now, so he can check I haven’t killed myself since this morning.
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RYN: I made out with both of them. Valerie’s friend is the one who shoved me up against the counter and no, yada, yada, yada is not a threesome.
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Your concept of “right” again is just meaningless to me. First it was if I do the right thing it’s still worthwhile even if nothing comes of it, and now it’s if I did the right thing I shouldn’t care that people got hurt because of it?
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Oh right. Nic is leaving the city without even telling her brother and throwing in the job she loves more than anything for a laugh.
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of course you do. People love to speculate how much better off you’d be trying to start all over with absolutely fucking nothing.
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This discussion just isn’t going to end well. Talk to me about sex or summat.
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And I was going to tell you about Keshan making me hit her and fucking with my mind erotically and all. Sigh. *deletes half-finished email*
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I wasn’t kidding, I was genuinely writing it! How identifiable do you think phone pics are? Should I be hiding every time a 30-ish bloke walks into the pub?
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I miss Natalie entries, actually. er, did I just say that…
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Yeah, well, I thought you thoroughly disapproved of the whole thing. *stern face* I have listened to you on lots of topics. Nic is just not one of them. *apathetic face again* I hate asterisks.
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ryn: yeah
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I have no guilt trips to lay on anyone, considering what a useless cunt I am all the fucking time! christ, what an idea…
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I haven’t tried to move to America either. You caught me. Working to have money to live is fair. You do help. (you, specifically, not noters in general) Sorry I’m always so fucking spiky.
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I thought Jeremy’s sweet benefits were from Walmart, not America.
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You and me both. You okay?
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Well I’m not married to people undergoing potentially lifethreatening surgery… just been rained on a lot. I’ll live… I’m not sure I was thinking straight last week… rain and drugs and that. You don’t understand how hard it is asking people for help when you look that much of a fucking state… and I thought I could keep up the working. meh.
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(that’s medication not illegal drugs i’m adding in defensive parentheses)
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I missed you yelling at me.
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It’s basically like… you know (you don’t know, but there must be some savannah-equivalent) if you light up, the bus you’re waiting for invariably comes? You have to… forget you’re waiting for lungs, or something. Jeremy’s lungs have to fix themselves, then lungs will instantly become available. You read tarot cards, humour me here.
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Why are you up at 4 in the morning, you daft girl? I suppose you could ask why I was up at 6 in the morning. Um. I wanted to see Natalie before she went to work though.
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I’m probably sick, I can’t tell any more. I’m coughing so much it’s making me want to smoke. Um… because… that would help. somehow. I can’t decide whether or not to be bitter that it’s NOT FUCKING RAINING this morning. (Jeremy’s lung theory in action.)
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And now I’m falling about laughing over the “Di Vinci Code”. Christ last week feels like a nightmare now.
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heh, no, Notliberal’s latest. I suppose I could go look through Natalie’s DVDs and judge her accordingly. I think the previous times I’ve been in this house I was having too much sex to do the important things.
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Right that’s it – the sun is fucking out. I’m getting John up. Later.
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Wasn’t it more like the thousandth date? Hey, that’s NL’s misspelling of Da Vinci not mine! Just so you don’t despise me forever.
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Well, I had sex before I ever wanked as I think I’ve mentioned before. God bless – er – Kira? That’s the second dream where I’m a gardener. What’s with that?
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Anyone who sleeps with me is by definition demented/naive/stupid – I’d probably go with demented in Natalie’s case. Er, we have the peaks. Heather and gorgeous hills. And some trees. Here and there. Not so many gardens.
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So you equate pretty with skinny do you, isn’t that some sort of murder-worthy anti-feminist offence?
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You stopped in the middle of a sentence! This is not normal. Was it the Call? Can I hope? I was not sparing anyone’s feelings. You’re sadly just an indicator of a wider problem.
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I could believe you had attained enlightenment, but not that you’d forgotten about punctuation.
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Yeah. I know, it’s only a cat, it’s daft. I was a bit drunk when I wrote that. I don’t like animals either, only this one. I don’t count a lot of things in life as mine, and currently own… a coat. Which was John’s, heh.
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Someone’s telling me off for my grammar now. And they’re an English Major. Does this mean anything?
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RYN: Wouldn’t dare, wouldn’t dare! Especially when you’ve got your period.
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It’s all true! Sob! The most interesting thing about the night after the plumbing was the hotel room: sure you are sick of them, but it was a novelty. I am enjoying your email the way I always enjoy your emails, even when they are about tricky stuff. However I probably have a million things to say and should go clean up the kitchen before Natalie and John come home. (Hunter, by the way.)
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But I don’t want to be as dumb as a girl! This totally sucks.
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I’m not going to reply to your fortunetelling today because I’ll say all sorts of annoying kneejerk things to it. I’ll read it again and think about it. I just have to say though: however much you hate filth as a compliment, it cannot possibly compare with how much I hate “protective”… I am NOT protective of people. Ever.
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Thanks for it, though. You seem on some sort of personal mission to build up my ego and I’m not sure what I did to deserve it but it’s nice, even though I obviously think you are less smart than before for doing so 🙂
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Ah, you’re just saying that to prove to me you don’t really mind me writing about sex.
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Because I can’t even really work out what growing up with love and support could even LOOK like. Yes, it was a whiny comment.
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Word inserts accents for me, I’m not really that dedicated. I refuse to write things in the “write entry” page. I have read lots about your mum. Stalk, stalk, stalk. She is another alien lifeform to me, but yes, not one who is friends with her kids. You should be grateful I didn’t write about Natalie, as it would require more than a pack of cards for analysis, I think.
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Well, in fairness to your mum, is there another reason for women to be alive? *waits hopefully for misogynist rant*
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You are a glorious person who never underestimates her blessings. I really like that about you. Blind people read about colours, hear about colours, know that there are these wonderful colours. The correct objection was “that was pathetically whiny, Michael” — any time I get “good writing!” notes I know I’ve hit that particular low!
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*alternative objection* “sleeping with adorable cool little girls in pretty flats in so emotionally banal, mate! FIND SOMETHING MORE TORTUROUS”
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I have sent you a short email only about the concept of “protective”. Please don’t be scared of it.
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You DO have a retentive memory. I love it. I get so bored of repeating people back to them. No one can ever remember what they said previously, which makes me unfairly secretly assume they can’t have meant it. I’m a bit psycho at time, but consistently psycho. I think. I’m not sure I know what aspartame is. It’s just BAD, right?
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John said filth not me! I just noticed and made sure to repeat it just to annoy you, I mean to get marked down in your gradebook. Do you wear glasses and look at me all filthily when you do that? And some people would argue sleeping with your messed up 18 year old patients is NOT an expression of healthy sexuality!
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Yeah, I didn’t rub in how I repeated it for emphasis, 400 characters and all, had to prioritise the glasses. Plus, every note from you containing the word “filth” turns me on, so I’m spinning this out for as long as possible.
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No, no sharks 🙂 I hold with my gender stereotypes! Except maybe clubbing, boys don’t generally like dancing.
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It’s alright. I honestly did like her, but it was more about the sex, and the not-thinking-about-natalie-as-much, which is a terrible thing to say, but anyway. I view it as karma for daring to argue with women about rape. Sometimes I can’t work out if I prefer it when girls can’t see through all my shit or when they do, they both sort of suck. You know?
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Here, I’m not going to ignore the writing comment for once. That is something I’m good at: remembering and relating chunks of conversation in ways that sound interesting and logical. I always thought John would be all over my entries correcting shit, but mostly he’s just like: your freaky memory, mate… It’s not quite a talent, maybe a knack. Like my maths.
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I’ve always liked your writing style too; though our strengths differ, your relations of events are less than interesting, and I could read your essay-ish stuff forever. I’ve been trying to write something about why John’s a misogynist and I’m not for about a week now (your feminist stuff has been playing into it some). I find it hard when there’s not a specific conversation to play back.
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I’m dead chuffed you called me economical. I think that’s the only writing-related compliment I’ve ever liked. Mind you, I think it’s undeserved, I write longer entries than practically anyone on here.
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You’re right, it’s just odd. I guess this is me finding it hard to relax again… I think I’m very in over my head with Natalie. Very confused by signals right now. And yeah, emails from Americans often come up covered in question marks. International keyboard war! Do all my entries look like that? Isn’t that beyond annoying to read, economical or not?
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Hit your computer a few times, savannah.
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RYN Way too much ego-stroking. Anyway, anyone can be good at sex if they can be arsed, I think most people can’t. Yeah, I know that wasn’t your main point.
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I didn’t say it! Fuck, I’m just writing lists of what’s happened these days
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Contest everyone but John, eh? 😉 Don’t be scared, I don’t think he reads the notes much.
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I’m beginning to wonder how normal people write their crap, if mine is really that unusual. Open Diary always seemed like one big blur of ego and episodiciiiiiiity to me… yeah I made that word up. John doesn’t menace women, he only menaces people that have some effect on him.
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