Sunday, June 28, 2009

I took the train this evening.

Everyone crawls up out of their eyes, eventually. Flailing out of their pupils like flatworms teased up the gullet, lured by cheese in the kitchen's tweezers. Hand over bilious hand, foot after foot after food drawn up and spilled out, pale and wet, into the sink.

My kitchen, my sink.

And I know you might get lost there, back behind, and down the drain. And you have my sympathy. But stop looking at me, else you all end up vomiting yourselves.

Out your eyes.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

-Mancy

None for me, thanks. Cartomancy, aeromancy, ornithomancy-apparently. Goddamn Queen of Diamonds appears on my floor one day, the Ace of Spades the next. Lemmy and Angela Lansbury, pentacles and swords (pronounce the "w"). Mind control and death. Cedar waxwings in the holly bush, bald eagles pounding their way out of the air above my neighborhood. Does the neighborhood persist upwards? Where's the boundary? The tropopause? The orbit of the moon? That'd make sense-crystal spheres make for clear lines of terminus.

I have no truck with oneiromancy, as I rarely dream. This is true.

I have a bit about children, raised in creche, deposited at...oh I don't know, six? Deposited in tunnels beneath major cities and raised remotely in a series of calculated social/physical/logical labyrinths. Terminals where math problems solved or well-written essays garner the child food, or weapons. Or love.

Do this for ten years, then draft the ones that survive (the lethality of the process could be adjusted for demographic purposes). Everyone does their time in national service. The talented and gifted could find themselves as paramedics, police, soldiers, teachers. The best and the brightest. Everyone else does customer service. Waiting tables, jockying a register, working the counter at a department store. Two years of this, until you get out and take up the post-morlock education that will lead to your permanent career. But everyone has to do customer service, so that they'll be a little more civilized once they've become middle class. And everyone was raised in deadly tunnels.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Worst-

Case, liver. Of.

I love a list.

And the hot, wet city. Cities should be dank, damp, blood-warm places. Lush and green and breathing thick, wet wind through the streets. I can't go too far down this road without running headlong into song lyrics, and as I'm making a concerted effort with regard to original content...well, let's move on.

I'm taking risks, breaking new ground. I've been up since five AM, which is a silly, uncivilized time of day. I've got lots to talk about, lots to say. New bits, new faces, things and stuff.

Give me a minute.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Sabbatical

One-in-seven indeed. I know, I know, it's been a while. I've been laid low, laying low. Gotta pull myself together under less-than-ideal circumstances. But then, what other kind of circumstances are there?

So I've been unwell, and well, all at once. Never fails-just when I think I've finished and figured it all out...nope, not even close. New angst, this year's fresh crop of pathos. The covalent radius of a sulfur atom. Over and over and over. Had a revelation today. That's not uncommon-I just hope I can remember it later.

So I'm back, working it out. I have a number of projects, one of which is here-I've decided that I while I enjoy sharing videos with the rest of you, I don't want to clutter up what has become a fairly personal slice of me online with random YouTube-ery. So...I've got a video blog. Add it to your bookmarks, and check back for what should end up being a rich gumbo of news, odd, and probably the occasional funny. Check back here soon for recipes, anecdotes, and my standard verbose angsty bullshit.