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inspiration finds its own times to manifest. that's why i'm sitting here, now, after eons of literary constipation. behind me, the box fan balanced in the window breathes heavily, the rainbands of Ivan pulling and pushing the diaphragm that is the house. peripherally, the room darkens... only in the most subtle of room-dimming and CRT-brightening. the reggae on the radio, most appropriate for slow-churning weather special effects, pounds a tribal drumbeat to the storm gods... interrupted by sporadic alarm as tornado warnings crackle from radar sites. another afternoon of waiting. a little while ago, i suck the little figurine of Hawaiian god Ku on the dashboard of the truck, so it could grimace at oncoming traffic when i'm mobile again. it'd been waiting on the blue-mirrored table since it was brought here from the tiny surf shop on the north of HatterasIsland. curiousity getting the usual better of me, some digging through the search engines brought me to this place... it had been too long since my last slack-key and slide broadcast to recall just what his mythical forte may be. so, it turns out i'm not wishing war on anyone... depending, of course, upon the reference. there's good fishing, long life and good crops, as well. good crops to you, fellow commuters. in the same reading arose the profile on Lono, influence on clouds and storms. "with head hidden in dark clouds above". well, Lono is beginning to make an appearance, it would seem. i keep imagining the bass-heavy roll of thunder being felt through the floorboards...separate from the woofers in the livingroom. probably, it's just the humid tension in the outside occulted swirl. perhaps. since the last time i sucessfully entered new text, far too many tests of will have fought for conversion to font and alignment... sadly missing, the balance of enjoyable ones. finding so much that has been written before to be unchanged and depressing drivel, the tap of monologue shut off, temporarily. something we should all be thankful for... there is no creative writing in the Rut. but, things like seeing JetLi'sHero, my efforts in resealing and priming the house repel the angry elements, and GolfWidow adding me to her Harem... well, those are good Rut-Rockers... ...and get things in motion as i wait for the tropical shoe to drop. a few shots in pleasant company would do the trick, yes. |
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