The Sun and I aren't on speaking terms. We

The Sun and I aren't on speaking terms. We are both at fault, I suppose; she's been disappearing every night, and I've been seeing a tanning bed. We tried galactic counseling, but

the counselor was a total solar apologist. I should've known by the huge photovoltaic array at his office. So now I can't even go outside without the Sun disappearing altogether.

The germanium canvas-dimmed midday dusk weighed more heavily than usual on my mood.I made an exception & took a 5000 Lux bath at a light bar on the way home. I joined the antisolar

went out and bought me a camera. Back home, I chainsmoked some more, while I pondered the plot of the movie. Jim Jarmusch had lived a boring life, so this would be a right challeng

e. The films I really wanted to make are them moody French ones where the woman goes mad at the end. Always. But I can't speak French so I'm stuck with 'Jim Jarmusch, a Life'.

But, such is life. Or, je suis un ananas, as the French would say. Oh, the irony! Jim Jarmush was on to something. Or on something, I can't remember.

Jim Jarmush....Jim Jarmush...swush, swush...swish, swish..Jim Jarmush...shhhhhh...Jim Jarmush and I were flushed, shusshed, pushed. Hushhhhh...down into the bidet.

Oh that is not a drinking fountain... It's a bidet? Ooops l've been drinking from it. All this time someone could have said something. I bet I looked like a right fool sipping from

the runoff of countless...Whoa. So that's what a bidet is. Oh my. Ohhh, my my my. I don't think I can keep reading this. Well, not /out loud/ at any rate!