jacktellslies (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jacktellslies) wrote2007-12-01 09:07 pm
jacktellslies) wrote2007-12-01 09:07 pm
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'Not exactly,' said the Medical Man. 'There are balloons.'
Ladies, Gentlemen, Et Cetera!
It is very important that you remember that one week from today (depending upon how one measures such things) on Saturday, December the eighth, time will fracture. Only you can save the world from its doomed future of cruel machines and its horrifically impolite present. For that day is Pretend to be a Time Traveler Day.
In order to prepare, I'll be watching various generations of Doctor Who in sickening quantities (which, I admit, I likely would have been doing anyway) and reading H. G. Wells' The Time Machine.
Not entirely unrelated to this is the remarkable pickup truck I saw yesterday. It was an ancient and rusted thing, and in the bed of the truck, mounted to the cabin, was a stuffed buck's head. Clearly what the truck lacked was an armchair, an ottoman, a fireplace, a small table outfitted with books and a decanter of brandy secured through magnetism, and myself, lounging in a smoking jacket. Lately I've been fascinated by homes that move, things like personal dirigibles and Nerverwas Haul. I'm not at all one for cars, but really, you can win me over to almost anything with good (or magnificently bad) taxidermy. Perhaps I could borrow the idea for the boat I'll buy with the money I earn hanging around the bus stations of the world looking pretty.
It is very important that you remember that one week from today (depending upon how one measures such things) on Saturday, December the eighth, time will fracture. Only you can save the world from its doomed future of cruel machines and its horrifically impolite present. For that day is Pretend to be a Time Traveler Day.
In order to prepare, I'll be watching various generations of Doctor Who in sickening quantities (which, I admit, I likely would have been doing anyway) and reading H. G. Wells' The Time Machine.
Not entirely unrelated to this is the remarkable pickup truck I saw yesterday. It was an ancient and rusted thing, and in the bed of the truck, mounted to the cabin, was a stuffed buck's head. Clearly what the truck lacked was an armchair, an ottoman, a fireplace, a small table outfitted with books and a decanter of brandy secured through magnetism, and myself, lounging in a smoking jacket. Lately I've been fascinated by homes that move, things like personal dirigibles and Nerverwas Haul. I'm not at all one for cars, but really, you can win me over to almost anything with good (or magnificently bad) taxidermy. Perhaps I could borrow the idea for the boat I'll buy with the money I earn hanging around the bus stations of the world looking pretty.
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I saw something today that reminded me instantly of you. But I can't remember what it was....
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Dr. Who is essentially a show about loss.
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It has been too long since the rapturous April of conversation ravaged the innocence from our quiet, cold March's thighs. As a token of bespeechment, I offer you this.
I trust you understand this to mean I am:
yours truly,
A_________
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Have your students done any good tricks lately? Have your cats had any recent triumphs in the war against the lizards?