Joe, you are absolutely right. This blog is a disgrace; it actually bears a distinct resemblance to my life: lonely, messy, and purposeless. Aiai!! Alack!! Woe is me!! (et cetera, soloist ad lib) In addition, both are entirely without the Dancing Dwarf. Oh, Dwarf! Where art thou? (or, I could say, if I wanted to be facetious, which we all know is never the case, "Oh, Dwarfeo, Dwarfeo, wherefore art thou Dwarfeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name, or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Hugolet." This is, of course, entirely irrelevant to the question at hand, which started as "Where the heck are you, O Dancing Dwarf?" but these minor details are easily overlooked.) At any rate, as I was saying, I am alone, and I do not even see the Dancing Dwarf. I saw her once, two weeks ago, for the first time in months upon months, and I shocked her thoroughly, but that is all the contact which we have had since last [school] year.
What has gone wrong? Last year we were a happy band of pretenders, or a pretentious band of happies; I forget which. Anyway, last year we were at least some sort of band of something, and it made us glad and joyous. This year, we are not even some sort of band of something that is made glad and joyous by its own existence--we are not any sort of band of anything, and the vaccuum in our now-disparate existences makes us glum and tragical (I seriously doubt that that is a word, but it looks so fitting). I know that I, Hugo, for one, trail about like a grumpy hermit thrust forcibly into society. I can't really speak for the other Desperadoes, because, obviously, since i never see them, I can never inquire into their state of mind.
All, however, is not lost. I have finally made contact with Joe! I must explain, by the way, that my state of being in the last months, that is, my existence off the face of the earth (having dropped off in June and not found my way back on), was not paranoia. I am not paranoid. I am actually extremely offended that Joe should even accuse me of such a thing. Paranoia is one of my pet peeves, which Joe would remember if he would simply put a little effort into it, unless, of course, he knew all along and only sullied my anti-paranoid reputation for the sake of nettling me. It can be difficult to know with Joe. I am simply a lazy procrastinator who hates to be uncomfortable, and guilt (over seeing four months' worth of unchecked emails) is one of the most uncomfortable emotions in my repertoir, especially when it requires tears and apologies and explanations and all of those nasty, awkward things. Urgh. I hate scenes, unless they are specifically staged for the attraction of attention. So, that is why I stayed off the face of the earth for so long. And, in case anyone (Joe) is wondering, I continue to addiduously avoid my primary email address, and only use my school one. One day, I might stop being a moral coward and actually "face the music," but that has yet to happen, and probably will not within the next month.
Oh, crumbs! The time! I must go. It has been wonderful. We should do this again sometime,
Your affectionate uncle,
Hugo
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