Skating Into History

I had a lovely blading tour of Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens this afternoon with my friend R. It seems that not too far from where we were, there exists a special area where you can throw balls at tiny drag queens ...

Cool.

After more blading and discussing which superpowers we'd like to have, we found a grassy knoll ... perfect for resting our legs, enjoying the afternoon, sharing a chat, and ripping to shreds the annoying twats passersby who offended our sensibilities.

"I need a good novel," I told him, expressing my concern that nothing has been holding my attention lately and it was starting to get on my nerves.

"I can't read novels." R tells me. Not for the fact that there seem to be a lot of words and no pictures, he assured me, but because he's creative enough so he needn't waste his time with other people's fictions.

He'd rather read histories and learn about important things, "like who designed the Nazi's uniforms because they're just so sexy."