Sinister: 11: Thou shalt not suffer a bookshop girl to live (or at least not flirt with her overmuch)

[Will Porter]

Kirsten has a story about a Katie. 
Katies are potent indeed.  I myself have been known to fall under their spell
and lose at least one or two of my senses for days at a time, which results in
my bumping into a lot of things.  The attention of a Katie is liable to take
the legs right out from under you, if you're not careful.

Someone was talking away about something or other and said something about
Will, which I naturally assumed to be about me, only it wasn't at all, because
it was in fact about that Salt fellow and too busy being about him to be at all
about me.  I have decided that there are too many Wills here, so the others
will have to go.  You can change your names and come back, if you'd like, but
ths is too confusing for me.  I knew you'd understand.

Someone else asked where all the New York sinisterites are.  We're right here,
sweetie.  We had a big fucking picnic about a month ago.  The question is not
where are we, rather "where are you?"  And the answer appears to be "New
Jersey," which isn't New York at all, now is it?  (The author has nothing
against New Jersey and is only teasing so for god's sake tell your cousin to
stop hitting me.)

Laura Llew is shocked--SHOCKED!--that she might be an abomination.  I'm sorry,
dearie.  You're the loveliest kind of abomination, but come on.  Really now,
you sell books.  For money.  That's not democracy, that's capitalism (*winks at
Julie*).  You'd make a right lovely librarian though, if you came into the
light.

OW!  What's that pecking at me?  Could it be...?  Oh, no, it is only the
Limerick Chicken, which cannot fly, so it pretty much hangs out behind my
apartment and eats gravel.  I'd gladly FedEx it to one of you, but I've already
got enough beak-shaped scars, thank you.
At any rate, the chicken had this to say:

There once was a Laura called Llew
And I swear that the following's true:
She worked in a store
Pimping books out like whores
Instead of just sharing a few.

Naturally, I cannot be held responsible for the opinions of the chicken,
insightful though he may be.

I've really been wanting a motorcycle.  This peaked for a bit last night, as I
was feeling very rock-n-roll and happened upon a Moto Guzzi whose vintage I
cannot be entirely sure of, though it suggests the '70s.  I must have it.  If
any of you knows anything about Moto Guzzis of indeterminate vintage, please
identify this bike for me. It kind of resembles a BMW 60/5 and may have the
number 3000 on it.   

In other news, the really cute (though married of course) woman with the really
cute spaniel is currently in my library and browsing travel books.  I'd swoon
if I was smaller.  As it stands, I'm liable to break something, so I'll remain
conscious.  For now.

Pecan pie is still the best, and is considerably more American than apple pie.

mmm pie.

xo
will (no, not that one.  Will Porter.  Don't act like you didn't know.)

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