Blank Doll

"for in her youth, she has a prone and speechless dialect such as move men."

"Don't you know the devilry of lingering starvation?"

"the question he asks is what to make of a diminished thing."

"say my corruption grew out of horse dung."

"he speaks like a grazier as he looks."

"we failed if we became wife and slave."

One could almost say that I were having fun with my literature revision. After all, it's not the bullshitting that's hard, it's the remembering what bullshit your playwright/poet/author has written that could possibly, just possibly, corroborate your bullshit so your literature teacher who has made a profession out of bullshitting(ah the modern age, who doesn't now?) can acknowledge how good you are at bullshitting.

Meanwhile, I have thus far kept to the HIC thingum which is doing hell to my left thigh. I think I shall have a word with the doctor the next time I accompany my mother to have her shoulder looked at. I mean, I really wouldn't like to have to limp around.

Each time I read anything to do with the fashion industry or with tailoring, my hands quiver and I swear I could almost die from the anticipation. I need to move on with my life, not grind to a halt here even though I have to admit, Raffles has turned out to be far more fun than I'd thought possible.

Though things can go wrong, things have gone wrong. Guess that's because I'm not very good with words and then sometimes because I hardly care.

Dreamt I was late for literature. I will KILL myself if I were late.

C'est tout.