Talk like this and a photo like that and I’m thinking I might be lost to falling hopeless thrice over.
Fuck me running.
[ … ]
Didn’t expect that.
Ask most folks what’s beautiful, they’re not like to send a dog, and more’s the shame for them. It’s a good answer, binds beauty side-to-side with life. Warms a man’s heart, no feigning, and you’re dead right she’s a beautiful pup
Happens you’re a beautiful Fuckssake
That you with her, then? Got a nice smile about y
Took her in and cleaned her up sussed out the dog beneath the dirt. Not many’d do that either or nah, neh, nevermind this about what anyone else’d do, comparison’s a fruitless business, easy to fall into, runs circles through itself goin nowhere. Better said I call it crucial, acts like that, taking up care without knowing what’s to follow, what yr effort’s like to yield. Act of a worthy man, I’d say. Do say. You’ve got a heart to you, Vitaly.
She’s your beautiful thing, you’re her reason. That’s not small.
She got a name, your girl?
Eh, names abounding this night. There’s more to be said there, but what I’m addressing here and now is your calling it a mistake, giving more want than one. There’s no mistake I’m seeing, and I can’t go letting you axe off the rest of those wants. Thing is, I ask for one, you give me more, I call it a bonus. There’s enough of melancholy and malaise both to occupy the wide worlds for centuries to come. Speaking claim for what’s good or what’s wanted’s a way of staking balance, gives pull against what’s sorrowing.
I’ll put in a good word for and seconding of that stiff drink, that meal at its side. I’m ahead of you on both counts aye and can’t recommend strong enough. Worth noting if you don’t ken or haven’t heard, steer clear of Marney’s. Looks a likely pub from outside, but it’s shite for liquor and decor alike, not to speak of the clientele. Full to the brim withs fuckin wankers, is what I mean. Added to which the publican’s a closet fkin fascist, though that in itself ain’t rare.
Right. So I won’t fault you for sticking to what’s possible, what with all the melancholy in the world. Like to say there’s no harm in what’s it, dreaming big or hoping, but that ain’t right. More a question whether whatever’s hoped’s worth the potentiality of said hope falling though and [ … ] that’s not always so. Can’t fault you, then, nor shall I.
Happens that a want of yours meets with my own. I want to meet you, I want you to meet me. I want to hear you call me ‘Vevay,’ truth, and I’ll call you ‘Talik,’ if you should allow.
I like that one, I do. ‘Talik.’ Given to you, chosen, or something else besides?
My profession here’s I can’t say I quite follow on your meaning or either grasp the intricacies of Ukrainian diminutives (can’t say I’m much up on societal rules all in all), but I’ll get there. I learn steady, and what’s this modern age of wonders for, if not caulking up the gaps of ignorance. Meaning if I’ve spoken back your name too swift, it isn’t in impertinence.
Any rate, come to that wedding, we’ll be among us fellow Shitheads and here’s another want of mine, I’d like to call you friend at the least of it, alongside any other name.
Suppose if you’re game for it, you might hear something of malaise. It’s naught I talk on often, or I try to make no habit of it, but travel and old friends, new friends, weddings have a way of driving all manner of sentiments to the surface. Can’t promise it’s cheery, as I suppose the ‘malaise’ label advertises for itself, but it ain’t so rotten, either.
Related and on the subject of Shitheads, the sense I get’s Rin’s got a memory for anywhere between six and seven faces caught in knowing. Up til the matter of wronged teeth or hats or curios arises, ofc. Nothing speaking against them, only a fact to lay out there, and I can’t see how’d yourself’d be forgotten otherwise.
Shite, before I go forgetting to ask, next question, last question only for the now: What’s your girl looking like these days? Any chance of a further photograph?
no subject
Talk like this and a photo like that and I’m thinking I might be lost to falling hopeless thrice over.
Fuck me running.
[ … ]
Didn’t expect that.
Ask most folks what’s beautiful, they’re not like to send a dog, and more’s the shame for them. It’s a good answer, binds beauty side-to-side with life. Warms a man’s heart, no feigning, and you’re dead right she’s a beautiful pup
Happens you’re a beautifulFuckssake
That you with her, then?
Got a nice smile about yTook her in and cleaned her up sussed out the dog beneath the dirt. Not many’d do that either or nah, neh, nevermind this about what anyone else’d do, comparison’s a fruitless business, easy to fall into, runs circles through itself goin nowhere. Better said I call it crucial, acts like that, taking up care without knowing what’s to follow, what yr effort’s like to yield. Act of a worthy man, I’d say. Do say. You’ve got a heart to you, Vitaly.
She’s your beautiful thing, you’re her reason. That’s not small.
She got a name, your girl?
Eh, names abounding this night. There’s more to be said there, but what I’m addressing here and now is your calling it a mistake, giving more want than one. There’s no mistake I’m seeing, and I can’t go letting you axe off the rest of those wants. Thing is, I ask for one, you give me more, I call it a bonus. There’s enough of melancholy and malaise both to occupy the wide worlds for centuries to come. Speaking claim for what’s good or what’s wanted’s a way of staking balance, gives pull against what’s sorrowing.
I’ll put in a good word for and seconding of that stiff drink, that meal at its side. I’m ahead of you on both counts aye and can’t recommend strong enough. Worth noting if you don’t ken or haven’t heard, steer clear of Marney’s. Looks a likely pub from outside, but it’s shite for liquor and decor alike, not to speak of the clientele. Full to the brim withs fuckin wankers, is what I mean. Added to which the publican’s a closet fkin fascist, though that in itself ain’t rare.
Right. So I won’t fault you for sticking to what’s possible, what with all the melancholy in the world. Like to say there’s no harm in what’s it, dreaming big or hoping, but that ain’t right. More a question whether whatever’s hoped’s worth the potentiality of said hope falling though and [ … ] that’s not always so. Can’t fault you, then, nor shall I.
Happens that a want of yours meets with my own. I want to meet you, I want you to meet me. I want to hear you call me ‘Vevay,’ truth, and I’ll call you ‘Talik,’ if you should allow.
I like that one, I do. ‘Talik.’ Given to you, chosen, or something else besides?
My profession here’s I can’t say I quite follow on your meaning or either grasp the intricacies of Ukrainian diminutives (can’t say I’m much up on societal rules all in all), but I’ll get there. I learn steady, and what’s this modern age of wonders for, if not caulking up the gaps of ignorance. Meaning if I’ve spoken back your name too swift, it isn’t in impertinence.
Any rate, come to that wedding, we’ll be among us fellow Shitheads and here’s another want of mine, I’d like to call you friend
at the least of it, alongside any other name.Suppose if you’re game for it, you might hear something of malaise. It’s naught I talk on often, or I try to make no habit of it, but travel and old friends, new friends, weddings have a way of driving all manner of sentiments to the surface. Can’t promise it’s cheery, as I suppose the ‘malaise’ label advertises for itself, but it ain’t so rotten, either.
Related and on the subject of Shitheads, the sense I get’s Rin’s got a memory for anywhere between six and seven faces caught in knowing. Up til the matter of wronged teeth or hats or curios arises, ofc. Nothing speaking against them, only a fact to lay out there, and I can’t see how’d yourself’d be forgotten otherwise.
Shite, before I go forgetting to ask, next question, last question only for the now: What’s your girl looking like these days? Any chance of a further photograph?