Same Story

A vibrating moment. Just staring at those last Modigliani nudes and when I looked up everything was shimmering. Bad blood flow or sitting on my ass too long, or a visual thing having to do with close sight, snapping away into the distance. Residual detritus. Like dancing light waves. It cleared up quickly, but I was left with a pleasant feeling that lingered on for a hour or more. The dry-down of perfume. I went outside and the world seemed more real than usual. I found a nice little patch of morels and left the largest to spore. Immediately went back home and had them fried in butter on toast. Instant gratification. Settled in to read some light fiction, then edited myself for a couple of hours, then wrote for a couple of hours, arguing with myself that nouns and verbs, words in general, were just excuses for commas and periods. Hip-Hop as an example, rhythm established with pauses and stops. Shake your booty. I can't deny I'm an asshole, I believe almost nothing and still get by, most often as that pariah in the corner. What did Grant say about the Mississippi? That it was too wet to plow. I could step it up a notch, in terms of communication, by engaging in more frivolous bullshit, but I find it counter-productive, to always push against the grain. I'm quite happy, where I find myself, in the last week, alone, several great mushroom soups, reading some essays about early migration, side-tracked into the definition of set, and then a minor moment, when I thought about death and dying. Two mice in the last two nights and the crows are excited. I wouldn't put it beyond them, to know something was going on. I don't know what to make of it. I feed the mice to the crows as if nothing is happening. I'm not sure anything is happening. Feed the mice to the crows. Screw you, and the camel you rode in on. This is simply the way of the world.. You, and the camel, and you needed a drink, I remember now. I read a book (thank god for the Goodwill bag) about the Mississippi river. Then read some Charles Portis because I wanted to laugh. The wind came up, I was sitting outside for a smoke, and the soft leaves of spring were feathering into funnels when the wind picked up; and it was cool that everything went completely into a defensive mode. Me too. I don't like breaking toes and I hate that running around shit. Wind, check. My former sister-in-law knows where I am, but you either you have clearance or not.