Trompé Setsuled (setsuled) wrote,
Trompé Setsuled

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The price of character

Ahhhh . . . I've got my soda.

Purchased a big, multi-litre bottle of Vanilla Coke, and a little bottle of Red Fusion Dr. Pepper, which seems to be Dr. Pepper, except communist (don't I wish).

I realised as I purchased these, that I'm down to twenty three dollars . . . time for me to focus on frugality methinks . . . I fucking hate that. I hate thinking about money. I hate talking about money. Hell, I even feel slightly uncomfortable mentioning it here.

I really wish everything was free. Everything ought to be free. We spend too much precious time thinking about how to get money and how to prudently expend money. It can really spoil a mood.

Life should be like a dream. Our hearts should just float about being poignantly effected.

I'm sure Cryptess would chastise me (or give me the more gentle version of chastisement) for that remark, as it doesn't promote a story with good contrasting darknesses and lights . . .

I was thinking the other day about how much Cryptess's beliefs about God remind me of certain episodes of Star Trek TOS--the ones where Kirk and maybe some pretty, scantly clad young lady are trapped in some bubble-world or on some inescapable planet to perform for the intellectual interests/amusement of some powerful alien entity.

I think I really impressed Trisa at dinner with my considerable knowledge of Star Trek. Really, mates, I had her flushed and swooning--the drool from her trembling lip running to the table unchecked as her eyebrows raised in heartbreak provoked by the shear beauty of my extensive knowledge.

Or not.

Maybe it was more like she nervously laughed a few times to indulge my unasked for little digression. Who can say?
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