get your money back at the door

Today is the day of the London Marathon. I'm not running. I'm not watching, either on television or in person. I'm in my room writing in Russian in order to be able to speak for five minutes about something I doubt I could talk about in English for that long.

Right now, in a blast from the past, I'm listening to Those in Favour; they have a 4-point link to the song lyric above. A little while ago I was getting a bit frustrated with that particular titular restriction I'd placed on myself. If I stopped however, I would have most probably had to go back and re-name all my posts in retrospect, or alternately become suddenly as a cool as all of the songwriters I used. The trouble with that is, even if I were able to, I'd also be piling pretension and cringe on my head.

Poetry is indecipherable so no one can scorn or laugh