...
I warned you it might get loud.
I got to sleep somewhere around ten thirty or so and at some point it seemed someone was rapping at my front door, but by the time I processed that this might've been the case, no one was rapping at it anymore. I crashed back into the vast cosmic silences and woke back up ten minutes before Dawn called to see if I could come early for my hair. I'm her all-weather friend.
So I made myself a quart jar of mud, screwed on the special lid, poked in the glass straw and made for town with whatever I could throw on me or dump in my huge burlap tote.
But the mud Peet's sent this month is very, very evidently DECAF, which, on any day, but especially today is not a good proposition where the world and nines-dee-nine be intersecting, let alone when it's pouring and storming and splatting and strafing out there.
Pfeh. I know I gripe about my enfeeblement nearly ceaselessly, but, ahem, excuse me, I'm still damn fierce even when at death's door. Can't be helped. Can't be avoided. So I made my way down through the sheets of rain and downed tree offal to the big city Crescent and gave her a kiss.
Then I went to the pharmacy for my thyroid hormone. It was NOT there, STILL not approved by the insurance, a deep fog of insentience was emanating from behind that counter and onto everyone within some yards of it. I pushed it out its drive-up window.
I drove back across town to the big chic clinic full of medical imposters and made my complaint. My "doctor" was again not going to be back there until Monday. Get me his nurse. And sat down. Me and Larry hashed this out for the tenth or twentieth time, and now HE is going to find himself shrinking in height right along with my "doctor" and the midgets at the pharmacy if this does not happen by Monday.
I don't even raise my voice. In fact, my voice goes softer and fuller and the people within earshot all turn around and look worried. No one was injured. They're merely shrinking... except Larry, who won't start shrinking until Monday if this doesn't get fixed. He may actually grow taller and handsomer if he doesn't fuck up.
Then I went back across town again to an espresso kiosk and had the two darling young men there fill my jar with six shots and some steamed half and half before I ducked into the health food store for a couple items to help me make it through the storm without more driving.
There isn't a dairy product in that building that is not "ultra-pasteurized". Fuck. I pronounced in the voice to everyone at the store that ultra-pasteurized means NO nutrients AND tastes like crap, might as well blow your fake grocery wad at McDonald's, morons, but this young man here next to me has the coolest dreads I've seen in a loooong time. Good night and good luck.
So back now for the third time to the other side of town and taking Lake Earl Drive behind the prison so I can stop in Fort Dick to get some regular California half and half before I slip back onto 101 and home.
It's pouring out there. Has been for days, but the storming just started last night. So far tonight it's just pouring again, thank goodness, and... I'm sorry... I had to go full cosmic on you twits... but the upside to that is that everyone within range who isn't an android is smiling broadly at me from deep inside their chest.
Guess what I'm going to do next?
...
No... not quite yet... thank you kiosk boyz... I changed the links in the last post to better renditions. Might'z well put my temporary lucidity to good use... celebrate what swirls around manhood before I go play Zen Dream Lotto again.
always and any time....
