To Kolob

Reading over last night's post, I realize that I didn't manage to say anything I wanted to. I've been composing a new post in my head, but now that I'm actually typing, I have no desire to attempt to explain myself. Because I don't have to. So there.

Instead. . . the infamous MJ emailed me, asking me to write a press release. He's running for mayor of Centerville. Mad props to him, but why do I have to be dragged into it? I now find myself wondering if I should have been completely honest with him when he told me about Tina. "Oh, that's nice. By the way, I've been in love with you for six years. I'm going to take my broken heart to London, though, and maybe I'll be up for talking to you at our thirty-five year reunion." Instead I said, "Good for you. Please take me home. I have to pack." And I went to London. Without saying anything. Which is probably for the best. . . right? And now I'm supposed to write a press release for him, because I can't say no. I should say no. I should say "Hell no and damn you and," but I won't. I'll write the press release, even post it here and you can all tell me what a gracious loser I am. Gracious and stupid.

ps. And the form of protest today is apparently conjunctions. But it's not very effective. I'm not very effective. And yes, I am going to go cram myself into a corner and cry now.