kanji

26 March, 2003
Boom, Shaka-Laka

There is absolutely no recollection of what I must've dreamed last night, but I awoke in the middle of a pillow explosion. Not the cascading feathers pillow-fight kind.

It takes two, usually, for me to get comfortable with... a defense mechanism from living in a house where my mother's parties were loud and alcohol-fired (good for sound-deadening when the shouting started, or the same song got played for the fiftieth time). It's no less practical today... my work being nocturnal, it's a good approximation of the dark when you've got your head buried between them. Plus, it makes up for when I'm sleeping by myself... a twice a week occurance. At least they're not inflatable, you FreudHeads.

To the point (pun intended)... my head was like ground zero, pillows radiating outward in all directions. Like, feet away. Whatever was going on inside my cranium, it was bad news for bedding.

Probably, it's because I have no desire to make the trip back home, tonight.

God knows what kind of pent-up bullshit I'll have to contend with, since that front has been silent since I left. Plus, there were hints at separation. Sure... half of what's mine is yours, not the other way around.

To quote those more eloquent than I: "fuck-fuck-fuck-fuckity-fuck."

I have visions of having to sleep in a station wagon, again.

Hell of a way to start Spring.

This day has been a metaphor for the whole situation... sunny and warm enough to drop the top, until the black clouds formed a boiling wall on the horizon. Then, cold bullets of rain angled down, finding their way through the dry-rotted zipper on the back of my neck.

Things is never as good as we want 'em, Bluesman.

I should never have read the "A" section in the P0st, cover-to-cover. Every article pointing to how much has back-slid over the past few years... big war bills, cuts in education and health, fat tax cuts for already rich motherfuckers, prices of everything else going skyward. So much for fiscal responsibility and getting rid of Big Government. Plus, radio-folks have every reason to get royally pissed about this. As if the choices were few enough, now they want to dictate what we think in addition to what we're allowed to hear. Futher ass-grabbing by DuhbYuh. You get what you ask for, people. Go ahead, wave that flag and rattle those sabers some more.

BuggerAll.

No time for weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth... and the explosions only get more serious from here on.

.


hit me with your rhythm stick




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