Fcuk. Julie on Perpetualkarma uses this word occasionally — I first saw it in London on t-shirts made by ‘French Connection United Kingdom,’ but she means it in the sense of you-know-what — and it sums up perfectly what I feel right about now. fcuk. Just like that.
* haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a while
* have my Eternal Recurrence with the 13-times-per-year inevitable (which will end with menopause and never RETURN again — there!, another proof!)
* have more than a few doubts about this whole blogly thing. I mean, wtf? And am showing my disrespect for the non-existant reader by posting a crypticism not worth the pixels required of a computer screen.
The only thing that pleases my language nodes at this downtrodden time is the fact that fcuk sounds like “fuh-cuck,” which sounds like verkackt, which is the explosively onomatopeic word for excremental, excreted upon, full of dung. Same in German as in Yiddish, except sometimes spelled fakakt (or variants thereof) in the latter.
See you next Tuesday. Fcuk, that would be tomorrow. Perhaps I’ll be up for it.
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