Whose buddies all knew him as Gustav
I have been having a run of the kind of days where I can't understand why my body keeps waking up at all. In the afternoon,
spatch showed me a mural he had found a few days ago, which the owners of the house should be frequently complimented on, and in the evening we watched Ken Russell's Mahler (1974), which with all due thanks to
gwynnega for the recommendation we turned out to love. Autolycus sleeps with his tail wrapped beneath his ears like a pillow. My ability to watch movies seems to have returned to a normal level; the time I have to write about them has not. The number of problems the institution of universal basic income would solve for me is honestly not small.



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I'm annoyed at you, though, because now I'm earwormed. (True fact: I have a framed original sketch - it was my grandparents and I inherited it - by yet another artist she had an affair with, though did not marry, Oskar Kokoschka.)
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I am leaning toward leaving the owners a note to tell them what a pleasure it is to walk by.
I'm annoyed at you, though, because now I'm earwormed.
If it helps, it's been on mental repeat with me since last night!
(True fact: I have a framed original sketch - it was my grandparents and I inherited it - by yet another artist she had an affair with, though did not marry, Oskar Kokoschka.)
That's so cool.