Froat

I don’t want to make this blog about Cleve­land. That is why I start­ed Tremon­ter. But, I live in Cleve­land and I’m con­stant­ly putting myself in posi­tions where peo­ple are talk­ing about Cleve­land. So, I’m get­ting Cleve­land on the brain. Which is fun­ny, since I don’t care for any of the sports teams, go down­town once in a blue moon and have no idea what a tree lawn is. I also have noth­ing even approx­i­mate to a Cleve­land accent, thank­ful­ly. My spleen is fine, but my froat hurts. I went to the North of Lit­er­ary block club last night, which was rather emp­ty, but there was a gen­tle­man who was like a stereo­typ­i­cal mafioso and there was also a very pret­ty young lady but I think she was with her man. Ow. froat. Ain’t got noth­ing else to blo­gabout.