Lance through my heart
Ron Lansing. The colors he chooses are nice; green-grays and warm grays that evoke images of Tryon Creek park with ribbons of fog whispering through the trees. The colors match his skin tone and hair; and while today his tie isn’t quite right, normally the tie he wears does its job of providing interest to an otherwise neutral outfit.
But when I look at him, I’m perturbed, and I think I know why: everything looks like it’s falling off of him. His glasses are down to the tip of his nose, his sleeves are curled back at the elbow but coming undone and look agape, (like a 13-year old boy after church who ran around in the park) and his sweater is stretched out and hangs limply- like he’s lost 40 lbs but this is his lucky sweater! Lucky sweater damn it, and he will never let it go! Never!
I don’t think he’s that wide of the mark- he just needs tweaking and tightening. Of course, that could be said of most anyone past 50. God bless plastic surgery.
But when I look at him, I’m perturbed, and I think I know why: everything looks like it’s falling off of him. His glasses are down to the tip of his nose, his sleeves are curled back at the elbow but coming undone and look agape, (like a 13-year old boy after church who ran around in the park) and his sweater is stretched out and hangs limply- like he’s lost 40 lbs but this is his lucky sweater! Lucky sweater damn it, and he will never let it go! Never!
I don’t think he’s that wide of the mark- he just needs tweaking and tightening. Of course, that could be said of most anyone past 50. God bless plastic surgery.
posted by thecanary at 3:15 PM
2 Comments:
I hope the tweaking and tightening includes the application of some sort of anti-digression technology. That way, I can stand to go to class more than once every 2 weeks.
Lansing is an old pimp, he just can't help himself. . .
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