I was called upon to be assistant lumberjack yesterday. I've done this before and I noticed then that the life of assistant lumberjck is a perilous one. It always seems to involve standing just where the tree is about to fall. In fact, it usually involves pulling the tree down on top of one' s self.
But now we can see the light(at the end of the tunnel)house.
Sleeping is equally dangerous. My to-read pile by the bed is so high I fear it may topple over in the night and kill me. Or at least knock me out, leaving me to wake up with a cracked skull and no memory.
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I asked the manager of Borders if they had any CDs by Gogol Bardello and the Gypsy Punks. He stared at me, stared at the computer and said, 'No.' That's the trouble with these big stores: not in touch with the Ukrainian punk folk gypsy scene.