frozen with salt

...whoever said retirement was all soft breezes and mojito's and not warm beer bad food and bladder infections on the beach was soft in the head because I'm busier now than when I was actually gasp! working for a living and I don't like the beach all that much anyway so I can live w/o that analogy but after a day of herding the momsurous through the maze I sometimes need a stiff concoction to balance the bilge and when tomorrow is scheduled for another UNREP hopefully it will rain and help lift the hides without a serious roll off roll up or otherwise and I'll pretend I'm at the beach for a minute more.

that high pitched whine...

that sad aire, that sad musyck and that fine futile brutality unmatched by despondency or despair renders my drained psyche to a dull pulped mass balanced as a bulb on a stem with sparkling eyelets on writhing stalks.

lost 2 old friends in the last several weeks- a cold reminder of the limited seating and high turn over in this awful swirl of electrons, radiation belts and undulating fields of bewildering negative buoyancy at the edge of the event horizon...

life is runway #9 left & tally ho for cross chop twosevenzero at 20...

as the universe curves away from human notions of God and those Motes in the Eye things and Intelligent Design delusions and follows its tail to the Other Side of this infernal infinity sneezing another white dwarf here and coughing up more incubating star nurseries there and zipping merrily somewhere else along the way

...and in the darkness behold the vast chamber of magic light speeding away and know it will be back... at you... on the flip side

then we be gone.

42

guerrillas in the mist

"Okay boys fuckin' revolution is over!" read the leaflets that floated down through the triple canopy humidity scattering amongst the dead fall everywhere 'till Tuesday landing lightly on my brow before then but only slightly. "That was so yesterday so today throw down your velvet muskets your damn denim sabers and your tin-foil hats for we're headed home to the land of bilk and money b'god! Huzzah! Huzzah!.." it continued on into the night but that was all it was: it sounded good to me and I went to sleep early to prove it. zzzzzzzzz...

All's swell that ends well I always sway.

Huzzah! exactly


Keep your powder dry and your balls at the ready troopers and don't shoot 'til you see the soft whites of their underbelly on the Plain of Jars or is it the soft white of their underbellies on the Pain of Mars? i forget

Schlock and Caw:
Palin reveals she was dropped on her head as a child.
Everybody yawns.
Frozen tundra fed Alaska blacked-out in the Land of the Midnight Sun and is still scratching it's collective head wondering along with fermented corn-fed Illinois who's still swishing and cringing as Rod Blogovithair spins yet another yarn kicking and screaming his way out the back door.

Who let these people in here anyway, Space Invaders from Space?
Fuck!
Who then took over for awhile and left?
Fuck!
Was W an alien life form?
Fuck!

What The Fuck?

I don't know but the troops are dying still, the debt is in the trillions and I'm losing faith in the system like I had any to lose to begin with and for all his statesmanship and dignity and Firstness, is Ears going to be able to pull off the biggest comeback in the history of like forever and make US feel good again or will he allow The Screecher to make a run for his pants in 2012 and appall the rest of us with her bloom & doom and heavy breathing?

I wonder...
I stutter...
I shudder...

oh fuck

...and now from the Why Didn't I Think of That? Department...

"Pompeii is also an acronym for sentient death in it's most tormented form."

...a fucking brilliant observation methinks.

bwaahhhaahhhaahaaaahhhaaaaaaa