Loose (though lucid) ramblings

Today was full of twists and turns. I had planned to catch a lighthearted comedy (entitled "Knocked Up," a satirical look at unplanned pregnancy, I gather) but all went awry when I saw the magnificence of the day atop the beauty of the ocean. What type of man would I be to spend dusk in a theatre, surrounded by idiots crunching popped corn kernals, when I could lie serenely on the beach and watch the stars reveal themselves with more cinematic splendor than a Hollywood film with a multi-umptillion dollar budget? No thanks, chap, I'll take the stars of destiny over the stars of Hollywood any day of the eternally recurring week.

I do regret not seeing Reginald--the only man in this world I have ever considered a "friend"--but I trust our bond transcends a silly movie. Dear Reginald, I know you read these words... Please don't be hurt by my inconsiderate absence. You know I'm a bastard and for some reason don't hold it against me. I wish it were not so but alas... You are the better man. Please stop by the estate and perhaps if you are game we shall try some fencing. Or some nude wrestling, if you prefer (a sport destined--like all great things--to be misunderstood by the masses. But truly there is nothing more primal than wrestling in the nude beside a burning hearth).

A few lines I scribbled on the beach,

Cluttered is my mind;
my memory's an attic, full of spiders
and rat droppings. But I shall refrain
from calling the exterminator to "clean it up"
because the darkness is a part of me
and the phone, beyond my lazy reach.

Mere scribblings, really...