Alien Abduction Theory
Hi my name is Carlynn and you have come to my webpage. I hope you
realize that you are here. Because if you don't, then that's kind of
a problem. Although, I mean, nothing that can't be solved by a
psychiatrist with a prescription pad.
I am in love with this.
I read bad poetry into your machine. I save your messages just to hear
your voice. you always listen carefully to awkward rhymes. you always
say your name, like I wouldn't know it's you, at your most beautiful.
—Peter Buck, Mike Mills, Michael Stipe
Right. So this is, like, an introductory page. I say like because
according to a famous linguist whose name I do not remember, I am
making reference to the inadequacy of language. A periphrastic study
in a worn-out poetical fashion. You go, girl. Yes, you. The one in
the grey sweater.
[There was a rather awkward pause, as Alice didn't know how to begin a
conversation with people she had just been dancing with. "It would
never do to say 'How d'ye do?' now," she said to herself: "we seem to
have got beyond that, somehow!"]
I hope you're not tired.
I am very tired.
I really am soft yes tender and sweet.
So here's the deal. I have two hours until dinner. At the
Princeton Campüs Club.
Yes. I am in an eating club. And let me tell you, I will never
take shit for that ever again as long as I live, because I went to
visit my friend Lilly who goes to Yale and who has just joined
something called the Elizabethan Club. And like, hi, this club owns
a copy of the First Folio. Like, don't even start with me. Don't
even bother taking the first step down that road because it's a waste
of your energy.
But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat --
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.
No feet. No feet at all. I will meet you later in somebody's office.
The ocean machine is set to 9.