23 February, 2005 language is a virus
which makes slavery in a magazine printing company all the more ironic. or toxic, maybe. OK... so i can't find the words at home, nor the time to breathe creatively at work. just where that leaves me and this neglected space here, i'm not quite sure. the world hasn't stopped turning... for me or anyone else. well, there was one funny/peculiar happening, concerning a client whose shortname for the job was:
masokitsch. instantly, mentally, i see a dictionary-style definition: (n). a person that derives perverse pleasure from tacky home furnishings and bric-a-brac. well, i'm not dead. yet.
.
|