I'll raise a dust storm like you won't believe

Chestnut McWhiskeyskirt
Poisonfinger Pickles
Noodles Pasta, the Hobo Ninja
Spookypants McFavors
Silverback Danny
Captain Lowjack
Living Language Aaron

Waiting for my moment of golden light.

This is a necessity, as nothing as perfect and vivid as what happened to me yesterday can go by the wayside (Nothing has really happened until it's been described-Virginia Woolf) but please forgive my brevity and my inadequacy. To all those of you who were guests in my home, thank you. Together we manufactured many a fine moment and bushel after bushel of raw, uncut happiness. It totally makes my top 5 nights of all time. To those of you who were in on it, helped out, or co-hosted...I hope you share my pride and joy at having so many bright and brilliant people in our corner of the Whit. And to those of you who could not make it...you have my sympathy.


The moon turned blood red, and I imagined it was all for my benefit.



More later.

Untitled

No, it's good. It is. Gives me something to bite down on. I can still twist my own knife.

My +2 dagger of time machine

Ia! Ia! Nyarlathotep! Ia! Yog-Sothoth! Ia! The Black Goat of the Woods! Shub-Niggurath!

In a week, the stars will have been right for only a day

You know, regardless...I don't care whether the revolution will be televised or not. People on my TV, saying it will or it won't-or there'll be a podcast. "The revolution will be via RSS feed. Fuck it, I just hope it happens soon. I watched a commercial for Saturn that was aimed squarely at my demographic (ideologically, I mean. Not economically). Asking people to question consumption...by buying the right product. I used to think that as we became more savvy and jaded as a society, we'd begin to eliminate marketing. Now, it just seems like marketing's going to eat itself, and we won't even notice.
Cooking, in the absence of other expressions of personal excellence, is what I'm doing. Making bread, experimental shoggoth bread. I'll let you know how it goes. Also, there were huckleberries and a trip.

Oh, and

Fucking Herman's back.

Flip

In dreamland, Ken, I am scion of the sun and nephew of the dawn. I can destroy the world, and wear a hat that says "wake up". Raccoons got nothing on me, nature's ninjas or no.

Squirrel Fight

Noisy little bastards, only visible in the effect they're having on the trees in my backyard. Whatever beef they've got with each other, it's serious. They woke me up early today after going at it for almost half an hour.

Not enough here lately, feeling blunted and worn. But the days are bland and beautiful, and despite my recent trough, life's still well and good. One more day, then the sabbath.

Backwards and Forwards

Been intense around here lately. Not just that my roommate's been wound too tight. Like, clocktower tight. Or that my mood swings have left me to wonder at the state of my brain and my potential for things like schizophrenia or a tumor...a wacky tumor. Or the constant parade of strange, wonderful...strange people that end up in my living room, eating my food and breathing air that, while not technically mine, still likes me better. Or the desperate poverty that's kept me from these interwebs for over a week. Or that it's the end of the ju-months.

Or the crushing loneliness, it's not that either.

And, to be fair, know that from my perspective, none of the events above counts as bad. They're just puissant.

No, I think it's just the juggling of it all, the terrible antagonism of those things together. I couldn't be a hermit, but I envy them something terrible. And to a period marked by the arrival and departure of a finite but unknowable number of women, all of them extraordinary (seriously, how many beautiful women do I know? I could start a softball league), let me take a moment to blame your corrosive yin energies for interfering with my life. Come on, don't you know that it's men whose powerful, generative yang makes the world go round?