It's the happiest place on earth.
The real one.
WHY do perfectly free days force you out of bed at ungodly hours? WHY can't you get more than a few measly hours of unconsciousness when you KNOW that you could have so many more? If you prick me, do I not mumble something unintelligible, swat you away and roll over?
Do I not eat wine, drink wine, sweat wine, bleed wine? Am I not a man? Am I a mere wine-soaked wretch to be toyed with and jerked about on my puppet strings? Then why do you offer me wine in Your house, as Your blood? Is it not for redemption? If so, the answer must lie therein.
Questions that matter.
I'm gonna go get me another glass of whine. And I'm going back to bed.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
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You are going heavy into that wine, rite? I don't mind the whine. Just don't drink whine at my place. Don't like the stuff.
ReplyDeleteYou know, I love the little subtitle to your blog. It's über cool.
ReplyDeleteOk, I can live with that. I don't want to be taken for a whine press (or a wine pusher, for that matter). And thanks!
ReplyDelete10 green bottles on a wall...
ReplyDelete