Reblogged with permission.
I cannot say enough good shit about this post, so I will shut up and let y’all get to it.
I been thinkin’. It’s not my strong suit, but all my other suits are dirty. So’s this one, but it’s the cleanest dirty suit I’ve got. Oh, hey, what’s this in the pocket? Why, it’s a matchbook from the Tradewinds Hotel in lovely Fremantle, Western Australia. That’s how long it’s been since I did anything like thinkin’, I guess. I was last there in… holy shit, 1989. That must be, gosh, more fingers than I have. 25 years! Well, almost. It was late November, so call it twenty four point something years.
Math isn’t my strong suit, either. Which leads naturally to the question of what, precisely, is this heathen’s strong suit? The honest answer is that I truly do not know. I might not even have one.
Just so it’s said, I am aware that “strong suit” refers to a hand of cards rather than garments. Irregardless, I’m not…
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