Events like a mouse trap of mysterious origin viciously snaring the paw of a canine house guest. Events happen to mark its inexorable unfolding. Whether it’s linear or cyclical, it is, at the very least, progressive.
But back to the letter:Īs much as I can personally identify with your self-described “endearingly sluggish, personal calendar and clock,” and while I imagine that time must surely stand still for those who remain dead center on the karmic wheel, suspended in either constant nirvana or constant catatonia, it doesn’t work like that out here on the spokes or rim, where most of us pretend to be awake. And as for the trespassing Yorkie stalker with the Napoleon complex, well, you don’t know the half of it. elicit one?” It seems that, in addition to confusing an intention with a promise, the webmistress woefully undercounts. Since then, you’ve nibbled and napped your way through two Thanksgivings, a couple of Christmases, a whole spring and summer, and a major Pulses re-release but have never offered even a single follow up article, despite my efforts to elicit one.Įxcuse me for interjecting, but “. In fact, you announced that very intent in your first review-a “summer” edition that arrived October 31, 2018, significantly delaying launch of the website. Moggie, not to hound you like a certain precious yet pesky little Yorkie with overcompensation issues, but you promised to review and highlight a different Jerry Merritt book with every change of season.
Series of increasingly indelicate messages dropped in my litter letter
At least the webmistress implied as much in a I suppose I owe anĪpology for my long absence.
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