Bridges and Ferries

Burn the one, cross on the other. I leave early...I may not sleep. This can only be a bad idea. I'll be back Monday.

If I'm not, avenge my death.

Puzzled

I have two identical remote controls, only one of which works. My bathroom fan sounds like a rock tumbler full of legos-jarring, if you're not used to it. I live on the only block of N. Monroe in town. It's like some sort of delivery Bermuda Triangle. Not one of the five clocks in my living room/kitchen is accurate to within even an hour. My house is one big booby-trap...Casa del Impossible.

I love it.

I'm going, going away. Up north to the sea and the Sound. It's good, I need to vanish, need to abandon the suddenly eerie events of my life. Dawn and Dusk and the Fiery Twilight. Too many cusps, not enough calendar. All is well, but all is weird. It'll do me good to go. I'll leave you a list.

Silverback Danny
Poisonfinger Pickles
Ephemeral Eddie
Fedonkulous Monk
Clamapple George
Tiny Toast
Skeetster Latefee
Chestnut McWhiskeyskirt
Noodles Pasta, the Hobo Ninja
Yurts Akimbo
Bathtub Midori
Jennie Emobreaker
Skullfucker Katie
Honky-Crotch Fingers
Aliza Three-Ovaries
Queequeg the 'Poonist
Nice Marmot Camino
Spookypants McFavors
Captain Lowjack, the Ginger Ninja
History's Greatest Muenster
Cinnamon Scream
Mr. Chartreuse
Squirrelball Wednesday, the Weirdo with the Beardo
Living Language Aaron, the Ladle King

Horse

Ridden by the loa, houngans and Ogoun. It's Saturday. Je suis le Tenebreaux.

Weight and terror. Pushy Jesus and one colossal social clusterfuck. My friend is leaving, new ones spring up as though sown from dragon's teeth. All I ever find are orphans-you can call me Rachel. Rarely have I struggled so, through so few days-only a couple, but hard and deep and rigorous. I love the election, revel in the history so terrible. It's a good time to be alive, a good time to pay attention. I've cost myself sleep and dry eyes and safety in the last three days. Good.

You are all a beautiful chore.

Operation Bindlefuck

Denmark's a Prison

Trying

Trials and tribunals, libations and libertarians. Life's been rich and full lately, mostly good, never boring. Still wrangling my bike, still whelmed with the people I see and the people I don't. The bike thing's very frustrating at the same time that it's empowering. I have to do all of these things that I've never done before, and frankly don't feel comfortable doing...and then I do them, and I'm thrilled. Keeps happening, not bad. 'Course, it takes forever, hours and hours I hadn't planned on taking. Still not done, either.

It's monday, I'm off to work in a moment. Last night, had potluck with the neighbors, talked and ate for hours. I can't complain, try as I might.

Options

I never know whether to blame your eyes, or my bushel. Regardless, I am unbroken, unbowed. I still lead my charmed life.

Identify

I am an incandescent pillar of golden fire. I am the finest turnip in all the land. I am the opposite of rainbows. I am the Keeper. I am a 9th level greengrocer-I have cruciferous testicles, and can see through the eyes of potatoes, hear through the ears of corn. Some men call me arugula. I am Duke of Nomenclature, President of Twelve Minutes from Now. I am the Kwisatz Haderach-I can be in many places at once. I am the regularly filled with a christlike love for all creation. I am unmuggable. I am Czar of All Mangoes. I am as full of shit as fifty horses. 

Bong. Burns-his-bridges. Q. Living Language Aaron. Sendero Luminoso. fimbulwinter. Takes-a-second. Esprit de Escalier. 

That's what I got. Today, anyhow. Here's a little soupcon of Hope. 

Republican National Convention

Christ, they can't be happy just torturing prisoners, they have to go a-waterboardin' metaphors as well. How Mitt Romney ever got anywhere with that attitude reminds me that there are so many millions of motherfuckers who look/think/speak nothing like me. He's talking about (Adam Smith on steroids? WTF) what it is to be Liberal. Sigh...these people need a little Seven-7.