11:39 and all's well...

tonight's walk was just the pair of us. me and the bright eyes extending from my wrist. seining the dark. something akin to the angler fish.

honeysuckle. opposing headbeams. one cricket and the one reclaimed arrangement. broom is flowering too. scores about young lovers. hey ding. waiting for the mushpot to erupt. break out of a pent up state. duck. duck. duck.

distinguished for having failed. for slow. tapped into the center. simmered. pulp.

if like a net there's no going. ring me please. and just as content to sit. i'm not asking i'm telling. quite dizzy.

what does the menu dictate? engulfing glaze. spooning the lipid rich brain. catch of the day.

that's just gravy.

i'm going to sleep.

thundercrap...

the thunder is what woke me. undetermined hour but a dark one. what we refer to as a thunderclap. that is a point of importance. generally it only rolls. a thunderroll. some large unspoken playing nine-pins. if we believe in large unspokens. make like we believe. just now on the way to buy four postage stamps (magnolias) it remains angry grey. with an e. the other color is sweaty like gym trunks. just like 9 is mean and five is f and f is not to be trusted--unfriendly. those are my associations. humor me.

thunderstorms. loving them. in the midwest it is mostly a series of ovation. for what we're in the dark. but you can descend to the depth of a cellar and still feel it. how powerful. and the lights are impressive likewise. in texas mostly light was my experience. in anadarko with mockingbirds. in montana a roadway touchdown smoldering.

yesterday the adjacent houselet was removed. the neighbor stood recording. mrs.martin's ghost will haunt you! in the voice of an arkansas coal miner. a little one that house. as long as i can remember that house. a slanting rose. false parrots on the porch. and the wind-up owl. and the frail lady in her smoky octogenarian folds. dovie. another name in the old lady parade. the jaws of the eradicator struggled. like watching babies eat cake. all mind on the intent and little for the grip. consequently crushing. how they stay so slimming. baby.

this feeling needs a quick and purifying acid bath. to look out the window and see into the next lot. transparent. the red hot poker. the highwire insulators. the skulls. the red-yellow windows after dark. so japanese storybook. nailed to the gone ceiling perspective.

and down the avenue they removed the locust! 9! they corded it! f! grey! it's a stack of flowering nonsense and no trees are left. none! fuckers.

it wasn't the prettiest anyway.

in other news...

i started reading moby dick last night. i've never read that. should i admit to things like that. i suppose.

by reason of these things, then, the whaling voyage was welcome; the great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild conceits that swayed me to my purpose, two and two there floated into my inmost soul, endless processions of the whale, and, mid most of them all, one grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air.

now that is purty. socks. knocked. off.

it's only a locust tree! a houselet! change is good. is all change good? how long does it take to grow a tree? to make a houselet? really change is good. i believe it. but cake. eating cake. and babies. and intent. a strangling grip. or vice versa.

eeep. dunno.

dunnodunnodunno.

what's your poison?

i discovered a stash of film for the analog today. hooray! it might be too old. we shall see.

a few weeks ago i renewed my driving license by mail. the new license arrived but the picture is not the picture from my old license. it's from my state i.d. what?! hmm. in the photo i look very intoxicated. not intoxicated like "wow this is a mind blowing experience" but intoxicated like "where's the scotch? where's my shirt?" i've never achieved that level of intoxication (thankfully) so it's all an illusion created by the magic that is d.m.v. hmm. i'm just going to let things lie tho because trying to get a favor from a d.m.v. employee would probably require my belting down a scotch and taking off my shirt. nevermind.

incidentally i've never tried scotch. let's play with something more convincing. whiskey. vodka.

speaking of beverages. i like tea. yes it's tasty. go and buy some. do it now. buy tea, i say!

but enough.

engineering...

up and away. the launch is generally not problematic. all of the exchange is fastening for the gantry. what we do to keep it standing. but really if we had our rathers. instead of speed and lightness. impermeability. flexibility. all the awe fixed to the fusel.

i've yet to see what they call petit four. because those are with tea and under icing. here it is another custom. another hot little oven.

and so. it's past my bedtime by far.

my looming spinster earhorn...

sister: you owe me an apple cake.
me: why? what are you talking about? i owe you no such thing.
sister: yes. i'm catching cold and you gave it to me.
me: so.
sister: so you owe me and you're going to pay one way or another. either in your cake or your skin (garbled).
me: what?! my semen?!
sister: (doubled, laughing) yes, your priceless, priceless she-semen. skin, you dufus! i said skin!
me: good because i'm fresh out of that other.

and i am too. thankfully.

i spy...

last week the father discovered that more fuel was needed. the cold still holding. he went early into the pasture where he gathers firewood. it felt like i walked into a f*cking grimm tale. above his head in the hollow a honey bee was squeezing in. he heard the muffled humming of many. bee tree. those used to be more common and they're coming to more common again as the mites give way. this news made me happy.

something has been growing by the shed for years now. i just let it go. not minding. the site formerly contained an herb garden. it had to make way for building. but this thing was marking the perimeter and so stayed. a few days ago the brother was standing there he said he saw berries. no not berries i said wasp gall. but he insisted on berries. i took a gander. no! pomegranate blossom! and they are too. and just now as this cold storm is looming outside i looked again. the tips are all crowning. which means in a few months i will have white cotton t-shirts smeared with clumsy juice. and happy! these must have their origins in the annual pomegranate delivery from the father. he leaves brown paper sacks of them. and those from a tree he planted on the day i emerged. so. wandering offspring.

etching...

walked down the rose alley this evening. an arcade and bright. i refered to it as smelly. swift correct. scented. the man on the pavement looked at my chest. only because the red was there. he smiled. smelly? tipped my chin to force the shade down. i said smelly only it wasn't what i meant.

and now his enzyme is chipping the subscript. if he intended he left it. the eatery telepathic. somewhere he's galloping with a limp.

sucker.


in other news...

another flour sack emptied into the drum. another flour sack to be washed and converted. hooray!

found the cricket in times square. also the tale of the shining princess. he carried her home cupped in his hands, in just the way you would carry a baby bird....

and later he opened his hand to reveal nothing but bird-droppings....

now listening: joanna newsom--cassiopeia.

...and in store are dreams so daring
that the night can't stop from staring....

how do you spell relief?

we were set upon by friends today. one of them pulled his firearm. yes. a tiny toy blunderbuss from the kangaroo pocket. it was i assure you frightening. small in stature yet....

it is frightening i assure you i said.

he seemed relieved.

swordplay...

he said nobody uses the cutlass anymore. it cuts only one thing and the rest remain uncut.

bugs...

och. the visiting babies left bugs. consequently i feel like sloth droppings. why on saturday? gah.

ask for frank...

he asked in multiples. need help? no i've got it. he said that way too. it's heavy. no i've got it really. he insisted the same. here let me. alright go ahead. ask for frank. but i think he's not running on all cylinders so 'sokay.

i had a great idea but couldn't finish. or to be truthful couldn't begin. maybe another time.

i'm so galldern sleepy i don't think i'll stand. frank? frank? frank? unreliable!

up!

tonight at my favorite streetlamp (in cottonwood/plum) we stopped at lola's urging. she has this thing. this thing which compels her to wait for an oncoming car to begin relieving herself. maybe i should find her an analyst. dunno. anyway, the air was completely still where we stood. but in the treetops it was blowing hard. we just turned our faces up and stared (the sister and i) at the leaves. like applause. a big hand for something obscured.

the prankish call this morning made my day a happy one. only after the prank was revealed. you discover it is good to wrestle a cold wind. because you are able. there are no restrictions. you climb a tree and forget your shoes. just like the song. you brag about the shoes. you brag how the small boy's designs fit your own. up! up! tree!

wellidy. i must to go to sleep.

taste test...

he continued to range over my hand. tasting it. but that's a woollybear. appetite on feet. row upon row and clinging and cold. varnish head. gleam.

cold wind skirting skirting high the same bare elm. he was in the street beneath the lamp. corner to the red house. i was manacled by one hand. the other crooked with mail. how like a target. dark broken dark issuing dark. scooped with the arrested hand. maybe it was he liked warmth. only settled and the gleam a red-black rise over thumb horizon. crow's nest.

inside he was less sluggish. heat. he must have touched and tasted every surface of one hand. lively. i turned him out the door again.

just now finally shivers.

a is for...

some staghorns mounted to rafts today. they'd just been languishing indoors for quite a while now. too dry in here. also started some aristolochia elegans seeds. cathedral vine seeds. black-eyed susan vine (thunbergia alata) seeds. hmm. i like vines i guess.

i posted a post on my birthday but blogger ate it. grrr. to sum up: my birthday was good. warm hellos and well-wishing from friends and family. electronic and direct. i kept thinking of crocodile gena's birthday song about the magician and the blue helicopter. it's a nice song. and i am pretty fond of the accordion. indeed.

found a strange red t-shirt on a rack for ten cents. ten cents! what?! and the front has a lowercase letter a printed on it. what is this a for? adorable? maybe no. awkward? could be. alvin? it worked for the chipmunk. the strange bit is the interior tag reads: self esteem. maybe the a is for awesome! i'm in the dark. will have to learn to activate cotton fiber superpowers.

well then.

so...

tomorrow is my birthday. eek. pointy hats and stuff.

today i found a copy of nabokov's pale fire. hooray! and then at a plant sale a mature and extraordinary jade plant in a shiny blue pot. also, a very shabby looking, though substantial, cymbidium. i've never tried my hand at growing cymbidiums before. should be interesting.

alrighty. i'm not going to waste the sunshine.

periodicals...

well. hmm. they made some news.

here and here.