Flat...

Woman in Water
image has nothing to do with anything

That would be the word of the day: flat.  Flat world, flat life, flat hope, just your basic planer existence revolving around a serious skirmish with yet another iteration of the public school proto pneumonia grunge-bug.  It’s been over two weeks of intestinal infighting and bronchial raid and run to dislodge the invaders.  They’re losing ground, I’m winning, no mercenary antibodies in the fight, but damn.  It do eat up time and after a while you just feel... flat.  That thousand yard stare starts taking over.  Still though there are things to be seen at the end of that thousand yards, usually in the reflections populating a windowpane in one of those intoxinated fever dreams.  You know, the things you see in the reflection that just flat aren’t there when you turn and look into the room, but they’re still there in the reflection when you look back.  Seen some sights in that window last couple of days, yup, yessir I have.  Not totally sure what to make of some of them.

For a tamer example:  I walked out a back door I did, didn’t think much of it, something to do with the dog I think, only to discover a twenty, thirty head orgy rolling around in my backyard.  Didn’t think much of that either believe it or not, pretty normal looking people indulging in a pretty normal looking fuck fest.  One of the revelers, a pleasingly plump English looking lass who was riding reverse cowgirl (she reminded me of Lulu in “To Sir with Love” ) looked up at me and in a tone of voice somewhere between petulant and bored said  “please tell me you’re not gonna go all grandma judgmental about this” to which I replied “This, nah, no problem with this but it would have been nice to have warned the roommates ya’ll will be using the garden hose a lot... been nice to know why there’s no water pressure in the bathroom.”  Right.  

Interesting thing was the skyline beyond the back fence... I recognized that horizon instantly, that was the scene as seen looking out the back door from the rent house next door to the hell house... makes me wonder which back door I walked out of.  The back wall of the hell house is still a total blank, no effort of will awake or in sentient slumber has ever shown me that back door even though I know it has to be in my memory somewhere.  Oh well.  The dreams of intoxination can be as strange as anything induced by any deliberate indulgence, and often of more value once you can connect a line from the dream to the circumstance that gave it form.

Then of course there was the concurrent case of porous insulation, a condition rumored among the garage horror stories but never seen before in the real world.  I’m now on record in support of the legend, do believe I’ve now bumped into a case of just that on Brutus.  Little to tell, just a slight discoloration and a blistery looking deformation as if some tiny drop of solvent had attacked the insulation on the wires, allowing them to cross connect anytime relative humidity made for a nice wet kiss.  Right.  The answer? A whole lot of electrical tape wrapped most carefully.  Ok, readings back to normal on that leg of the harness, just have to wait for a good rainstorm to see if it worked well enough.    Old fart is beyond running great, he’s getting into the awesome ranges, but… still cantankerous as his owner. I’m tired of chasing wiring problems.

And of course it can’t really be called a proper hack bs filler post without something from the wonderfully dysfunctional world of world news.  Based on a picture I saw (purportedly  taken from ISIS’ recruiting effort) I’m starting to wonder how many of the ISIS fighters are in actual fact biologically homosexual living in titanium coffins instead of closets and dedicated to dying for the cause because the bonds of battle are as close as their culture will allow them to get?  I mean really, about the only thing that will weld two lives tighter than sharing a lover’s bed is sharing a goddamn foxhole and the boys in that picture sure looked queer to me.  If true what a bitter joke that would turn out to be, a viscously bitter joke in so many different directions.

Carrying Chaos

Anyway, the word of the day is flat.  Which, if this thing is unwinding in alphabetical order, might mean you’ll want to stay up wind for a bit because there’s really no telling what the word of tomorrow might be ;-)