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Yes, my friends, it'll be opera matinee time, tomorrow... as I star in performance of the soliliquy, "Oh Sole Mio." Screw you guys, I'm staying home. One more sunny day too move around in, and I'm going to spend it much as this afternoon. Reeking of chainsaw exhaust, riddled with blackberry briars, sore in the ass and elbow, occasionally taking in the faux ocean view to the south and east... one view in particular: straight down the ravine, opening to the flatlands and the horizon. Now's the time to be there, aside from the landscaping, simply for the view. No leaves, yet... no poison ivy, either. This is my alternative to spending hours in the Cathedral Of Cheap Plastic Crap, another "Fr1day" movie, and being the only adult male in attendance of a three-woman absentee emasculation. Pre-Divorce, pre-arbritration party, it sounds like to me. No fit place for man. What role does one play in that situation? Understanding Ned F1anders of the microscopic penis, or venomous ManDike? I'll pass. Yet another in a series of separate outings. I guess this makes me King Asshole. More and more, this affair is becoming like the knee in a pair of old blue jeans... the cloth fraying apart into a bare ghost of the weave. It's like the radio when the signal starts to fade... the melody is still audible, but is sinking into hiss. I should feel... something. Remorse. Disappointment. Fury. Nothing's revving the emotional needle. This worries me. Mostly. You got your life, that's all you need. Yeah, that mantra will have to do. "Chee-yah." That would be the Jamaican dismissal of this. Translated: "What the Fuck." ............................................. This slide scanner is Pimp Daddy. Some have asked me about Virginia. It can look a lot like this:
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