Dog, Late

Little Sister tangles with a coon at the compost pile. I have to feed the dog an extra meal to allow the coon an exit. Not the end of the world, just the middle of the night. In the midst of a bad dream, something about failed expectations, vague and bothersome, I'd just as soon get up, roll a smoke and get a drink. Got my tax refund and I'd bought a decent single malt, a Balvenie, Bonnie Rait on the radio. Waxing moon breaks through the overcast. Keep on dying, but hold the center. Something D had mentioned, I found an essay Liza had sent, took it in for him to read (how I found it, in the mountains of paper that comprise my world, is a mystery) and extended the argument that original thought is rare. That asshole cop that gave me a ticket yesterday was wrong, I read the signs, I understand the rules, I play by them, I need to get a funny hat, so we'd be on equal footing. It's hard to argue with someone who assumes they're correct just because they wear a stupid hat. I'd argue this in court, but it's not worth the bother, fuck a bunch of stupidity. It's all about quotas and budget short-falls. I pay taxes and obey the rules, leave me alone. It will be difficult for me to be more careful, driving to work, but I will be, because I can't afford the fine, but where are we going with this? At some point I shoot the cop, or blow myself up in a public place because I just can't stand it anymore. The restrictions. At what point does someone stop me, walking in the woods, asking for identification? It's almost dawn and I've fumed for hours, the Belvenie at half-mast, and I'm no closer to an answer. I don't need a keeper, it would be nice to occasionally sleep with another warm body, but I don't need the threat of a stun-gun to keep me in line. The classic Libertarian Bind. With any luck, when they come for me, I'll be naked, standing on my head, listening to the Cello Suites. I'll go meekly, because I'm not a fighter, and it's hard to be dominant when you're naked. Or not, I have to think about that. I wouldn't be embarrassed, if you found me standing on my head, naked, listened to Bach, but I'd feel vulnerable. I've taken this trip so many times, it should be mere habit. I have ear-plugs, so I don't have to listen to the Whip-O-Will, did I mention that I hate those birds? Fucking Goat-Suckers. Fucking cops and their funny hats. I just want a warm place to sleep.