Things I thought about while I was in London:
1. Their chocolate is much better than ours. Of course, I’ve known this for years and years, but when you’re completely surrounded by good chocolate, you can hardly be expected not to think about it.
A very clear explanation for the superiority of English (and, for that matter, continental) chocolate can be found in The Emperors of Chocolate. I haven’t read it in years, but, if memory serves, the story goes something like this: Milton Hershey was an early corporate spy in chocolate factories in Switzerland
It is I, Faustus. I have returned, only to find that I seem to have been nurturing a viper in my bosom. I’ll take the high road for the moment and deal with the pretender later, as I have a question to ask:
If you leave the country and stay with the music director of your show and his partner and they foil all your attempts to be a helpful guest by tricking you out of doing the dishes or arranging the cushions back on the sofa or any of the other things that you as a good guest would sooner lose an arm than neglect to do, and then you sleep with them, and then the next morning after a delightful breakfast, when you go to wash the dishes they don’t lift a finger to stop you, does that mean they thought you were bad in bed?
Hypothetically speaking, I mean?
Emperor David here. I have been making a list all week of things I need to accomplish. You know: usurp Faustus, install my boyfriend as liege lord over Upside-down Hippopotamus, train Goblin as elite bodyguard . . . that sort of thing. In my imperial ambition, at least, things are going rather smoothly. It is the rest of my life that is overwhelming.
Drop off laundry, pick up laundry, go to the grocery store, go to the grocery store to get everything I forgot the first time, send invoices, pay bills, vote, write six pages of this, write three pages of that. These are the things that vex me. These are the things I can never seem to get done, the things that I transfer, unaltered, from one day of my to-do list to the next. They mount and compound, and before long, I am drowning.
But instead of worrying about them (or, god forbid, doing them), I will tell you a story. Gather close to your computer monitors, my precious angels, and read a true tale of suspense and terror.
Picture it: Towson, Maryland, a couple of years ago. My ex-boyfriend, Michael, and I took a visiting friend to visit one of the country
This is David officially announcing that, in the spirit of Faustus
This is still David, since Faustus is off in fabulous London. I realize that I posted a broken link yesterday to my own blog. If you couldn