(no subject)

:
Saturday brunch with the Planarian Society.  No, I did not partake (I do not eat meat), but I am also not one to judge.   Conversed with a statuesque alzabo with exquisite cheekbones, found myself tucking my tail between my locked knees.  I do not know which is more embarrassing -- my submissiveness, or the failure of my submissiveness to yield any results.  At the same gathering, I shared drinks with the wire-drawer who had purchased that wonderful nude from L___'s ouevre.  My mind wandered, I remembered that it had been about a year since he had entered his self-imposed exile. 

The next morning, I traveled to a bohemian quarter that I had not seen in five seasons or more.  L___'s gallery was in the same place, but the walls are empty, the eggshell paint on the walls peeling, strings still dangling from empty hooks. There was an address posted by the entrance, an agent for reconciling business transactions, and for a moment I reasoned it would not be too difficult to track L___ down. Then reason conquered emotion, and I remembered I should respect his wishes. I have not shown any capacity to change the minds of others.

It would be wonderful to be a muse. I will have to settle for being a patron.