someone got here by searching on ‘hot day’. get the hell out of here, hot-day-person. you’re not wanted.
oh, i don’t mean it, not really. stay hot-day. read me more. i’ll talk about hot days if you want. is that what you want?
or was that just a passing fancy? i’ve looked up the weather before, on the internet, it was when i was travelling somewhere kinda distant, to see some bands in a fetival. it was open-air; i had a practical concern. so you see i understand you a little bit more: you’re not some kind of weather-weirdo. in fact i shouldn’t have labelled you hot-day. it’s frankly insensitive, plain stupid even. i apologise. let’s call you gerald (short for geraldine, should you be that way gendered).
so, gerald. what do you want to read about? my day perhaps? the various ephemeral inanities? well, caleb & i cooked lasagne; i recently ate a tim-tam; the reserve bank lowered the interest rates. fascinating picture, no? what do you think about sarah palin’s daughter hey? leave a comment. hook me up.
or maybe that’s not the register you desire. i should be using this space to to write of poetics. the relationship between canonic australian poets & celine dion, just for instance. there’s something in it, something academic, something cool.
gerald / geraldine / hot-day – you are my only friend. don’t leave me hanging.