it’s haute

It sucks when I really want to tell you something but I can’t because it’s not appropriate. I have a great story to share, but it’ll have to wait until the dust settles. It’s really funny…

The reprieve from the heat has almost quelled my annual August “I have to move the fuck away from here” mood. And it’s not like I work outside or anything. I don’t know how the people who do work in this heat make it through each summer. Usually this time of year I long to move to a fishing village a la a Stephen King story. Some place up east where night falls early and the day stays mostly cloudy with a damp, cool breeze. You can hear the clang of metal on flagpoles in the distance and the constant lapping of water on the beach. Of course, if you live in that place you have to dodge rabid dogs, monsters and maniacs, so it has its down side.


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