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occasionally i wonder if the reason for holidays, like St.PatricksDay, are solely intended to distract the weary... like those of us who are being ground under the heel of this most debilitating of months. February... well, shite weather is expected. March... well, you hope for better. last week, it appeared like Spring had finally arrived. last night, there was frost on the car... and snow bouncing staccato-style on the windscreen, this afternoon. it's like being kicked in the ass... with studded boots. since this is a "beer" holiday instead of a "candy" one, it's helping to feed my suspicions... ...and it's making me thirsty, besides. even though there isn't a flagella of Irish in my DNA. i'll deserve some frothy comestibles, when the end of the road comes in the wee hours of Thursday... providing, of course, i get there in a reasonable amount of time. i've got a bad feeling about the wagon... just like the rest of the antiquated machinery i travel in, lately. bombs, all of them. if i listen closely, i can hear ticking. the cure... just add money. there's that word, again. i'll thankfully be leaving behind, this week's episode of Three'sCompany. the only missing character in these past three days has been Mr.Furley. pushing the tel-lie-vision scenario further, if Yoko's still obsessing on her daughters' dirty laundry when i return home, it'll be like stepping onto the set of Oz. minus the fucking. and the tattoos. this becomes part of my consciousness as Akebono was watching season one when i returned to the Diva's, last night. i'd tried to avoid this show, previously... hating further proof as to how low humanity can plunge... where life has no purpose except in the moment-to-moment sense. and whatever happens is foul... and inevitable. endless. hopeless. not too far, really, from what i expect Hell to be like. back home, how Yoko's daughter can live life as a prison guard is beyond my ability to reason... and spend all of her life around other co-workers whose lives revolve around the abyss. the whole concept withers the optimist in me (and it lives, still). glad i helped her go to college, and end up like this. life imitates art. or something. maybe i need to drive out some snakes, too. mental ones, at least. especially considering tomorrow would have been my brother's birthday. in that respect, i am Irish. |
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