Saturday, March 08, 2008

I peer at the screen, halfway through ask the dust, sleeping wife (suddenly), sleeping babies, (not quite as suddenly, but intermittently, a haphazard pattern streaming across the evening’s consciousness), and I ask myself, could I have it better? Might some alternate timestream offer some interdimensional exit whereby a preference might be accentuated? Nope, nunca, nada, no way no how no happnin jefe.

This life, aye mayne, I love it. I have built something of which could never be built again by any purposeful soldier in the struggle. what has transpired, what have become the erected legos of my life, could have only happened in the one way in which they did that one time, and for that I thank Allah, God, Jehovah, or the heretofore unmentioned Carl the neighborhood deity. in other words, whoever whatever wherever IF ever (hello god that is the red tip of an unlit match in a dusty matchbook sitting in your aunt ethel's broom closet), yeah you: gratzi.

Joy in delirium, ecstasy in frustration, beautifully aware amid confusion, knowing yet unknown. I write, am right, I am wrong, semi-coherent splashes of thought beaming askance as the wall screams alien diatribes.

I’m toasting a slice of bread for some 1 AM PB & J, as well as (now) purveying a late nite screening of the earlier evening’s clippers lakers jaunt. Yawp, s’all about me, j’know? And then? Some and then, primarily banging (tapping) quietly as to not wake the residents, these very keys which purvey (?) this selfsame information to your selfsame self. Salud.