Will's Coffee House

John Dryden, Dramatist, Critic, Poet Laureate, and my ancestor, frequented a coffee house called Will's almost daily, where he would hold forth on sundry subjects with great wit and aplomb. Same deal here, only without the wit or aplomb.

Location: Large Midwestern City, Midwestern State, United States

I am a stranger in a sane land...

Sunday, November 20, 2005

Plus Ca Change...

...plus ca meme chose, n'est pas? "Ah, c'est vrai," you reply. "C'est tres, tres vrai." To which I respond, "Mais bien sur!" And so we continue to mouth easy cliched phrases, playing our game of linguistic chicken until one of us has to break down and admit that, no, he doesn't really speak French.

I continue to groan and whine my way through serotonin-induced misery and arduousness. This state has left me less than festive, so the week ahead should be...interestingly challenging. I certainly don't want to be the depressed elephant in the room as the family gathers for the Thanksgiving repast, but faking it is so damn hard. Maybe if I just get really, really drunk. Though that has behavioral compromises of its own...Hmmm...

Anyway, between pretending that I'm not convinced of the utter suckage of life, and travelling to the family residence, and getting and staying drunk, I probably won't post much in the upcoming week. You can check back, but you would be indulging in an act of unnerving optimism...


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Tant pis! Quel dommage! Veuillez agréer, Monsieur, l'expression de mes sentiments les plus distingués.

OK, that last one's not an "easy" cliche. But it is one nonetheless, and there's a certain joy in using it completely out of its normal context.

Feel better, Dryden.

8:41 PM  

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