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It's the most superstitious time of the year! The minute I snapped the Rte. 666 photo, and saw the stark results... I knew I should have left it alone. Tempting fate, I was. Well, OK... shit started hitting the fan before then, but it surely didn't help by annoying the powers-that-be. Stopping for gas at three AM last Thursday night started this ball rolling... what a peculiar feeling, exposed at the gas pump within spitting distance from mindless gunplay. A death-defying act, filling the tank. Someone scammed my credit card, last week... luckily, the companies involved smelled a rat and contacted me. But now I'm temporarily credit-less. Not that it's necessarily a bad thing... credit being it's own abyss. More deviousness and deviltry. Fuckers. As soon as my buns hit the carseat this afternoon, I started getting the Hellhound On My Trail feeling. Steering onto the blacktop, and going through the manual motions with the shifter, nothing happened when I clicked on the overdrive button... the four-banger revving merrily away at higher-than-usual RPMs. This, after the bearing adjustments and bettery replacement on Sunday. After a shut off in town, all reacted as normal as long as the overdrive button was avoided like the plague. Return of the JuJu. Hopefully, this is just a temporary manifestation... nothing like the three-year stretch following the accident, and the subsequent thinning of the families by the Grim Reaper. And the finances from hell. It's that kind of prolonged period beseiged by negative aspects that'll wear the strongest to quivering protoplasm. I always am preached the sermon, "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Maybe. I do recall wakeful late nights , back in that summer... downslope, in the distance towards the road, there was a chorus of owls, communicating sepulchrally in the night. From the echoes between, there must have been six or more. Gradually, as the summer progressed and thickened, their calls drew nearer to the house. And so did my apprehension. It's not like we weren't warned. So, I've shaved off my eyebrows... something I'd planned to do when the cat passed over. The ancient Egyptians used to do the same whenever a pet died... though the particular meaning escapes me. A removal of identity, perhaps? Who knows... months later, I still felt driven to make the expression, and now it's done. The smart comments to follow. As if I care.Maybe it'll ward off the negative waves.
Abandoned metal gas station... Middle Of Nowhere. |
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