look in the mirror and we laugh, like the magic. the physician with the regal silliness of an aging crown prince in his brightly lit office in (maybe bhopal, maybe bengal?) north india pairs this phrase with an antibiotics prescription for my irritable bowel syndrome, this will fix it, like the magic. and i reflect that simone my first encounter with a stoner italian, with his waving his hands all around about how much he would like to eat then nap
am glad ice cream, pizza always delicious, never outgrow those. in power in dhaka, the indiana jones of poverty: it belongs in a museum. good shit:
i have to be careful because those red ostriches are smart
read and then there were none by agatha christie, first published 1939. when the curtains close, when our eyes scroll the epilogue, when we understand we've just witnessed an induced suicide as finale and a second one as encore. bravo to you, agatha christie, for your storytelling chops
none of this nudity and gramophones half the night
soldier island. he remembered soldier island as a boy . . . smelly sort of rock covered with gulls
he's nearer the day of judgment than i am
very few thoughts passed through his head. anthony was a creature of sensation - and of action
a cairngorm brooch
in either case you notice, the same initials. ulick norman owen - una nancy owen - each time, that is to say, u. n. owen. or by a slight stretch of fancy, unknown
drunk . . . and i operated! nerves all to pieces - hands shaking. i killed her all right..simple job if i'd been sober. lucky for me, there's loyalty in our profession..but who could have known about it - after all these years?
he'd cooked seton's goose all right!
there is so little time - so little time. i really must insist that no one disturbs me
downstairs the gong pealed a solemn call to lunch
you must remember that anyone who's mentally unhinged has a good deal of unsuspected strength
one more of us acquitted - too late!
he must have prepared a secret place beforehand - naturally - of course it's just what he would do. you know, like a priest's hole in old manor houses
so that's the reason for your womanly solicitude! you wanted to pick my pocket
my nature was a mass of contradictions. i have, to begin with, an incurably romantic imagination. the practice of throwing a bottle into the sea with an important document inside was one that never failed to thrill
i may say that i watched the faces of my guests closely during that indictment and i had no doubt whatever, after my long court experience, that one and all were guilty
a pitiful human wish that someone should know just how clever i have been
9/5