till Wednesday, and how inauspicious, for my last post to have been one about a tender gay porn of my dreaming fantasy. I will return in full splendor in two days, wearing a crown of interpretive glory and trimmed robes of velvet euphemism.
Rumor also has it that the remarkable Ana has decided on our January poet, but I won't announce her decision until we have finished with poor neglected Tennyson, whom God does not love and consequently prevented me from lauding with the full balls-to-the-wall fervor he deserved.
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