I Could Almost Tip-In

Tomorrow brings a day of rare unthriftitude: I'm buying non-house, non-food items. All computer related, for with increased Gutenberg capability, enhanced finger buttons, and enlarged electro-brain capacity, who knows what monkey stink I'll churn up.


Been drawn to painting recently, with full expectations of being painted to drawing any day now. Curious about the abstract landscape collages I was making in colleges. And I'll haveta buy a new calendar to pervert with doodles, as my latest sketchbook conversion has been truncated by spilt soda. I mean, 'pop.'


What is this, the fifties?




What, where're Jughead an' the resta th' gang?







What?














I could deal with the mold (I'm a pseudo-archivist, pseudo-sorta), and the stain (it's sorta nice and sepia), but the stench is beyond all decency and accomodation. To the incinerator!