- Day two, new daypack, the life-purse daypack, the everyday daypack, not a dayhikepack
- Daypack of twenty-or-so years obsolete space in size wise pocket wise
- I broke honor with that daypack of twenty-or-so years I promised would be my daypack until it or me
- and I'm fine, fuck me, very cool with disloyalty, the new daypack I don't regret, *that's* new
- The fuck:
- No. What?
- A bidenite told my yesterday Pelosi's strategy of goading Trump by calling him names while forbidding impeachment is brilliant, said Trump is going to meltdown sooooo bad on TV that.....
- I, I said before bidenite cut me off to say, I know what you're gonna say, and yes, this *has* been the long strategy and it's gonna pay off
- Just kidding, I don't care, I don't have a TV and I won't pay for CBS online if you give me the money
- Three AM yesterday morning some kind of animal fight in my front yard, two screams weren't cat, screams gone by time I ran out in underwear, neither of us saw Nap or MomCat (saw Frankie) in morning and through late afternoon and evening, should I put up the Alert I think and shazam, so I've not jinxed Alert system, all that matters
- I finally got in, Is it possible, I said, we can have coffee once and not talk about this shit
- My Favorite Tweet Ever Since the Last Until the Next
- Tomorrow is Annual Roethke and Swans for Roethke's Birthday post, here's a song and a poem not in tomorrow's post, please play this and tomorrow's Swans songs LOUD! and please read today's and tomorrow Roethke's poem OUT LOUD!
The fruit rolled by all day.
They prayed the cogs would creep;
They thought about Saturday pay,
And Sunday sleep.
Whatever he smelled was good:
The fruit and flesh smells mixed.
There beside him she stood, -
And he, perplexed;
He, in his shrunken britches,
Eyes, rimmed with pickle dust,
Prickling with all the itches
Of sixteen year old lust.