kanji

16 December, 2003
elegant chaos

Winter seems to be determined that the dominant theme will be white as the holiday approaches. Festive bitch, it is.

Not an pleasant departure from the norm... but, damn. it's been a slate-grey/looks-the-same-hour-all-day-long situation for basically, the entire weekend.

And damp. No sooner has the basement dried up from the last tsunami, then BOOM... the white curtain falls again.

and cold. two days spent in the elements, with the Revenge Of Odin... Hell, thy name is SAAB.

Friday, it was the impenetrable puzzle of gooey bits: mental teasers, those interlocking, interdependent, inscrutable components. the manual, a mockery of disassembly/reassembly.

No.

concentration, frigid fingers, blood... these are the only worthwhile tools in the dissection of the Swedish philosophy.

and cuss-words. many cuss-words.

Saturday began early... taking the Speckled Beast to the vet for her annual shots (a year, already?). pincushion cat. distemper/rabies/feline leukemia. bet she felt French... Sorbonne. certainly slowed the mayhem for a couple of days, that tender butt.

late to the final assault... the refitting of the power steering. all afternoon, i looked over my shoulder at the failing sun, muted grayer by the minute. expecting, anytime, the piercing darts of snow on my face and numb hands.

impossibly small space in which to work. trial-and-error. redundancies. engineering for engineerings' sake. abraded hands. frozen feet.

and then... it started, and ran. and continued.

i wasn't so sure about whether i would. i was frayed... depleted... berated. looking over my shoulder, again, for the flu bug.

what i did get was a pissy phone call... moms called, wanting to know if her car was done. punctuated with an "i certainly hope so." an unexpected price to pay.

why is it that only the women that hate men physically gravitate to me? getback?

black flakes silhouetted against the porch light in the evening, falling at an alarming pace...

...opening another blanketed Sunday.

sniffles. aches. swollen fingers. more chores to assail.

one creative outlet... making the xmas cards. tools: card stock. krylon. hand-cut stencils. pilfered images from old magazines, photoshopped.

well, you won't find these in any store.

cruelly, today awoke sunny and warm. nature is one heartless bizz-atch.

i've still got my fingers, though.

.


hit me with your rhythm stick




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