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"Waterlogged"... ...that's a word I used earlier today on a cashier at the general merchandise store down the road, describing how juicy the past few days have been. He looked at me as if I was speaking in Urdu. Such a rapport I have with my fellow countrymen. No change there. In all respects. Cabin Fever... broke and deluged. There may as well be three feet of snow outside. Another responsibility added to the list today... installing carpet, in the boudoir. Warm feet in the morning. That'll neutralize some of the sting of Monday. One of the wondrous materials in the project was the padding laid down before the carpet. Judging from the appearance, if laundramats could upchuck, that's what it would look like. A foam-and-bits souffl�. The Chaos Theory as applied to the random dispersal of color. It would make a wicked shirt. Since Miss Jane would only watch the Food or Home N' Garden channels if I were to disappear, I see way more than I'd like. But, it makes great fodder for wayward imagination. Like, if Norm (the F�hrer of Flannel, Defeater of Vila) were to go batty from the pressures of Hollywood, would he not create a robot of wood scraps? To wage war on the Ch*nging Rooms people? Well, I think it could happen. The golem of the Old Y*nkee Workshop. Of course, it would have to wear a suit made of the psychedelic carpet padding. I've been way too preoccupied with home projects, lately. Still can't see the surface of the drawing table, and the artistic pursuits are piling up. Again! Again! AGAIN! with the bumpersticker design. BeJebus, committees deciding the fate of art projects! They're scholastic, therefore they are experts at composition as well... such a burden, having the dread reponsibility of correcting the world. Beware the reformed Hippie. All self-righteous and shit. November, and I'm getting cabin fever already. Still haven't packed away the shorts and sandals. Waiting for that Indian Summer day. The best I'll get is non-shocked feet in the morning. |
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