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Location: The Promised Land

This is my triumphant return to the lifestyle I've always furthered and forwarded in my heart, at least, so let's blast off. The first half of my life has been incredible and the second segment will include more splendors than any Ottoman Sultan could ever have wished for in his golden repose. Anyway, fasten your laughter belt cuz you're on a collision course with wackiness.

Monday, August 07, 2006

Der Zorn Gottes

Have I sunk this low or risen this high? Only time will tell with brutal and tendon-snapping honesty from which none can claim safety. There's no need for any "claim" and I do know what they look like and it wakes me in the night with sweat staining the pillowcase and if I wore knickers, truly, they would be bunched.
My left leg does a new trick every day and soon it will teach me the lesson. The magical rebuilding cells are repairing fresh new little tears and clinging even stronger to the newly reattached fiddle wire. Soon it will know strength beyond compare and will take a name before setting out on its own, looking for that special lady. Sydney or the Bush! Indeed. Hmm, that's the second Charlie Brown reference I've slipped in in the last two posts which I think is a good sign of positive horizons, if that makes any sense, and I welcome all to this theological seminary. Anyway, interesting that in this particular reference, the Bush is yet again a BAD thing and a place you wouldn't want to find yourself. Look deep within your SELF! That is a little hokey.
The lord loves a Working Man, I'm told, and I want to believe it but the Bush crime family loves working men too, minimum wage, minimum life support, minimum thread count, minimum of two drinks, et cetera. I didn't want to be Tom Joad when I came to Californee but one good twist of the extremeties has put me in that place where the little man cries out at night and I don't like it here with this crying little man and I want to go back to my stately pleasure dome, dammit. I'll find a way. This is the Golden State.
This has been a glorious weather week but the hammer of August will soon come crashing down and reawaken murderous thoughts and devilish considerations. Whatever. Still, this week was what every tourist expects to come here and find. The kind of days where I'd pledge my allegiance to the sun and full speed ahead but I'm not making the greatest time at the moment. So I sit and wait and watch and think and smoke and nod and scratch and shift and gravitate.
The moon is scalding tonight and bakes the shades behind me which is good because a chill tremor of a current floats through the room on its way to the back door and the arboretum beyond. I imagine the grapes hanging outside are churning in their skins and developing their personality which we pray will be complex. The figs and avocadoes and lemons out back are falling to rot for the insects and the smell of sweet decay hangs in the air when the breeze can't find its way through because of the traffic.
This is the edge of crazy but experience and quiet resolve keep me from the abyss and we check the reading on the old charcterometer and hope the numbers look pretty good and we at least get a finder's fee, even if this is my deal. There is much adventure yet to be had and I crave it here in my fortress of squallitude. Godammit, I like that.


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