Socks are Sexy

Working on a pair of socks. Should be done by morning. What an odd day this was, complete with a series of very complimentary conversations that remind me of what, who, where and how this madness of Gregory Patrick should proceed. Yes, proceed. I said it, I mean it, I have no choice but to live by it. I've been in a stagnant rut that's helped me manifest EXACTLY what I want....and let that be a lesson to any of you reading this. Children, you CAN have exactly what you pray for...but, with a slight handed bash to the side of the face, be mindful, let that prayer be as specific as possible, for you damned may well get EXACTLY what you wish for. Let no detail go unnoticed, no precision unsharpened.

Here I sit, working on socks for....who? For you, I imagine, whomever you are. The photo will be a nude. Can't think of any reason why Gregory Patrick wouldn't have it that way. He, nude, wearing only socks....clutching a teddy bear. Why do I hate Valentine's Day? I truly don't. I ENJOY it. For it will definatly show the weak from the strong, the emotional from the apathetic, and the foolish from the formidable.

This sad dove will not be put out of its misery by your hands. It shall requiring mending...That's what I've been needing. Some mending...Now, cast on 48 stitches, divide upon 3 needles and kick the shit out of anyone who decides they hold your happiness in your hands. Join, careful not to twist, then proceed with an evening of unequivocal truth...Be sure to take off your wedding band, should you have one....It may get in the way.

Gregory Patrick