- High Egoslavian Holy Days imminent!
- The weirdest thing as I pavlov my way to new twaater treats is I can't picture in my mind what it looked like yesterday
- Life in the I...what?... sorryocene
- Three months ago I thought I'd be hiking White Mountains RIGHT NOW! as I type this sentence
- There will no photos from Maine this year, enjoy the reprieve
- Two o'clock two nights ago My Least Favorite Cat Ever earned a four foot soft toss from waist-level to living room rug, landed on all four, collapsed and screamed, held her left back leg at an 90 degree angle impossible without fracture or dislocation, we rush her to 24 hour vet at Rockville Pike and Nicholson, one xray and $500 later she worked us, doopty-doo
- fine metaphors abound, but worth the money, the vinegar and baking soda in my head at what I can't talk about here foamed and gone
- Not that I'll resort to cat-tossing again - even though Jess is fine and it wasn't an angry toss the horror I felt towards myself, cleansing, clarifying - but it works much better at curing the bends than hating motherfucking Democrats
- Here's one hint of upcoming Holy Days
The white spot to the upper life
which looks like a pith plug
in a peeled orange is the crater Tycho.
I have never been there. Perhaps one day
you will. I saw many jackets in the coatroom
but none of them were his. I know someone
who is alive somewhere.
It is embarrassing to be alive.
Sometimes you have to stand out on the street
and look upwards, and then you have to pretend
the stone at your feet
is not an object of observation,
when it is.