| Frêsh Fish |
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Archive Mea Culpa. The above Archive Link & the Search This Blog Link do not work. This happened after Google, the king of search, bought Blogger?
Frêsh Fish - Much magic for a little fish.
Frêsh Fish is a combination of new and spirited with the added bonus being that everyone knows that fish is best fresh. The icing on the cake was that my mother’s mother, Lena, always told her and she me, that fish was brain food. So with Frêsh Fish we have spirited and new food for thought, ideas, that ain’t got no stink. I was suppose to eat fish today and did not. I hope I can be forgiven.
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Monday, September 29, 2003
And as the king awoke he was amused by the dancing of the pretty colors in his bed chamber. All the splendor of the spectrum - red, orange, yellow. green, blue - sashayed and shimmered. Yes, as they did every morning with the rising of morning sun, the fairies came to dance for him and rouse his spirit to the day. The above sounds nice but actually it was just me waking up to the nip, burr of a fresh Fall morning, since I had left all the windows up and one of the doors to my balcony open, and watching the colors of the spectrum - red, orange, yellow, green, blue - dance around on my ceiling and walls. But boo, no magick and fairies, I was just playing a game that Sir Isaac Newton used to play when he was a tyke. I have some fishing line attached to my ceiling and on this line I have hung a crystal. When the morning rays of the sun hit the dangling crystal just right, like in Raiders of The Lost Ark, then the colors dance just for me upon my bedroom ceiling and walls. I know it is just a crystal on a string, fishing for spirits, but as I lazily lay in bed, thinking of coffee and the new day, perhaps I am A Once and Future King. Get you to some magick now. Get you to some doing. Create and be alive. For when you are such I am pleased. © 2003 big box industries Thursday, September 25, 2003
How about a little phun? Can you have too much phun? Well I have gotten pretty close a couple of times but amazingly enough after a little surcease I'm on the hunt again. So let's have a little phun with the marquee tag. As they say in France the marquee tag is a snap. The marquee tag works just like any other HTML tag. You have the openning marquee tag, you put some stuff after that, and then you have a closing marquee tag. Whatever you put between the tags scroooooooolls across the screen. © 2003 big box industries They were milling about playing What I Did Today. Some did this and that, and others of course did other things, and then with an impish grin he played his trump card - "I backed up my computer system. Well actually just my documents and snaps directories." My current computer is 3 years old. It was of some interest to note how much or perhaps better, how little I have saved over the years. Still my 8 gig hard drive is almost maxed out. And even though I have everything backed up on CD, I can't bring myself to delete My Stuff. My current computer is 3 years old and I am starting to pine for a new one. I'd love a 2 monitor system that I don't have to reboot everyday that processes snaps in the blink of an eye. And then of course the new buzz now is 25, 64 bit on the desk top. But I suspect the five twos will be my next, next computer. Anyway, if your computer is starting to show its years and you have some good stuff on it, do a back up. Wondo. Do it now. Do it now and I think you will find that the magick is in the doing. © 2003 big box industries If Spring sprungs, then Fall fells. Last Tuesday the sun rose due East and set due West - Autumnal Equinox. I couldn't wait, in honor of the new season I made beef stew last night. Lots of stew meat, carrots, potatoes, 1 can cheddar soup, 1 can cream of mushroom soup, garlic salt, pepper, and pinches of strange herbs from my garden. Put all of the above in a crock pot and cook for about a zillion hours. Ok I went to sleep and forgot about it. Wake up in the morning to wonderful. Whoever invented the crock pot / slow cooker should get a Nobel Prize. A clue to all the guys out there, cooking is a good thing. Many a maiden has lost or found her virginity while eating the Chao Ti. "I didn't know it could be so good." Today is going to be a good day. I am eating It's So Tender It Melts Off The Bone - Beef Stew and a decaf and the sun isn't even up yet. God must love me a lot. One more little bite to see if it is as good as I remember. Hard to believe but it is actually better. © 2003 big box industries Tuesday, September 23, 2003
I was bored to the bone last night, apartment fever. My skin yearned to feel the scratch of the night. I needed some stars and moon and swirling black with beckonings from the shadows. And just maybe if I was lucky, some golden locks to caress, some hair to run my fingers through. It was about 8:45 pm est, and my stomach was growling because I had been such a, hadn't fixed dinner yet, slacker. Part of me probably knew when I woke up in the morning, or that afternoon when I did the mall at lunch, or waiting at a red light on the way home, or the moment I slide the key in the lock after a hard day at work - but at that moment I was clueless. All that was hitting on my synapses was that I was, like a wolf, hungry, and needed to spread my wings and stretch my legs, and get my ass out of the apartment. I took my shoes off, then my shirt and ditched it on the floor, and finally - they'll have to come off sir if you want to do it right - one leg at a time, I took my pants off and chucked them on a heap of jeans and causal slacks, that was growing on the sofa. Heading in the right direction but still several states away. Tori Amos - Strange Little Girls - still wanted some dizzy, so I popped her in the little Sony CD player and kicked the volume up about half way, as I went to see what was cooking in the frig. Eureka! I still had about half of a 1.75 litre bottle of Finlandia Vodka ($24.99) slowing down in the freezer. The crest for the Dia is 3 reindeer with a big red dot over the antlers. I call going down, bucking up.  With a lucky Vegas shot glass in hand, I, pow! pow! pow!, bucked up a bit. I was aiming for the prefrontal lobe. My 3 shot pattern was a little scattered, left of center, but when you are shooting buck, God cuts you some slack. I could tell you about taking a shower, and getting dressed, and chilling a bit more with the roe, and dancing with Tori to Heart of Au - but I thought I just did that. I am a strong, May 20th, creature of habit. I was going to play it safe and head to Whiskers, my little neighborhood bar, for some wings and night stuff. But the moment I opened the door, I felt the magic of the night and the need to be elsewhere. Perhaps the neighbors wouldn't understand. Perhaps no one would. Not even the many I's that dwelt inside had it all together. Not until much, much, later would it occur to me that I was hunting for something different, maybe even a little strange. With the crickets baying at the half moon, I did a boogie check to make sure I had my wallet, cigarettes, and lighter, turned the key, and vanished into the thrill of the night.  Well, vanished isn't exactly right, I had to drive. But I had one of the best de's ever, Talk Is Cheap - Keith Richards, coming out of my speakers, and with a little fancy right foot work - gas, brake, gas - and a few lefts and rights, I found myself about 15 miles away at Dugan's, another quaint and curious, neighborhood bar. But not my, "Yeah, I have seen him around.", neighborhood bar. It was early Monday night, and I wasn't expecting a crowd, but I could tell from the cars in the parking lot, that I wasn't the only one feeling the itch. I was a little disappointed though when I sailed in, all couples and groups, no strays. But I was already there and still, like a wolf, hungry. I took a seat at an isolated area of the bar. I ordered 10 wings medium, a vodka shooter, and a Rolling Rock with a frosted mug. The chick behind the bar brought the rock and the shot. I lit a cigarette and waited for the foul. It was only a little before 10 and people were still meandering in - a couple, two unrelated guys, another couple, two chicks, another guy, two more couples, and then there she was, perhaps an angel. Well perhaps the angel of another. On an scale of 1-10, she was a high 5 or a low six. She was maybe 35, 5'4, and a little overweight. She was casually dressed - jeans, tank top, and sandals. But the thing that got me was her hair. She was a blond and she had her hair pulled back in a big floppy bun - "With perfumed hair, that came undone." But the thing that made the 10-7 split, was that she smiled, came right over to where I was holding reign, and said, "Hi, my name is Leah. Is anyone sitting next to you?" I am not going to bore you with all the details of how cool I was, or that I bought - all the guys dig Leah because she knows onomatopoeia - several drinks, and shared my fair with her, and complimented Lee a hundred times on her hair, and made her laugh, and how I was going to pay the check with a credit card but somehow ended up using cash, or how I said, "Do you mine if we go to your place?" Now a woman is a creature of many surprises. Instead of being put off by my suggesting that we go to her place, Leah was relieved. She told me she liked me and everything, but she was a little worried and she would actually feel much safer with all her things and stuff and knowing where she was in the morning. And then she gave me a hot hug. I don't even think she even considered that we would probably trash her place and she would have to clean up the phun after I split. I followed Leah home. She only lived about 2 miles from Dugan's. She had a neat, 2 bedroom apartment, and her roommate was elsewhere. Leah told me to sit on the sofa. Then she put on some bitch in heat, lit a candle and some incense, and then went into the kitchen. Lickety split, she was back with some chilled chardonnay and the perfect pear. Did we have phun?? Sure we did. The whole thing got started with me undoing Leah's bun, running my fingers through her hair over and over again, then pulling her beautiful blond hair to the side, taking a slurp of the wine, and squeezing some of the sweet, sticky, pear juice on her neck. We did it on the sofa, and in the kitchen, and we finally ended up in the room with a bed in it. Everything is still cool and I think I will get away with it. I have before. But on the advice of council, I have been advised not to go into too much detail here. Lee and I did make a mess and had lots of phun. Shortly after, she fell fast asleep, I didn't. I went into the kitchen looking for a distraction and I spied some scissors. I went back to see how my little princess was doing with her beautiful, beautiful, hair. Just a snip, she will never miss it. But once I started, I just couldn't stop. It was too perfect. Before I had finished, I had already filled up half of a Kroger sack. I wanted to shave the stubble but I was afraid that I would disturb my princess as she sweetly slumbered. Some discoveries are best made alone.  I haven't gone back to Dugan's or seen Leah since the scalping, but I have thought about her a million times. I wonder how she took it? She probably woke up the next morning feeling a little different, you know, lighter and fresh. She probably attributed this to, bless her heart, me. And then perhaps she went to scratch her head and that is probably when the panic first started to set in, must have been a rush. One hand, then two, trembling, shaking, freaking out. And then stumbling to the - mirror, mirror, on the wall - who is the baldest of them all? Blood curdling came next, a scream, and then a gushing of fast hot tears down both cheeks, sobbing. When I think about Leah and our time together, I always feel a little bit bad. I should have left a note, "If you don't like the new do, you can always wear a wig." PS - Yeah, I know you wanted to see a pix of the bald headed chick and everything. It would certainly be a top 10 for me if I had it. But I violated the first principle of a gonzo photographer. I left my camera at home. © 2003 big box industries Sunday, September 21, 2003
It's Sunday, I have already been up for awhile, or maybe better, it has taken me awhile to get up. Every now and then the frisky morning breezes go down on my wind chimes out on my bedroom balcony, melodious like Shangri-La. And slowly, one by one, some of the thoughts I was playing with yesterday, come back for another romp. I flipped a coin, heads - this is going to be a great day, tails - yes I have some tales to tell. Bang, the sucker came up heads.  Get it up and out there, yes your slacker ass. Whistle, sing, run, skip, jump the moon, get some. There is a lot of good stuff out there just waiting, waiting oh so patiently, waiting for your touch. And yes it is just like you sometimes suspect, it's all out there just for you. Each day we wake up with a certain amount of energy to displace. The energy is our gift. The energy is our manna from heaven. One can choose to use this energy in any way one likes. So today, get your slacker ass up and do something wonderful. All this and heaven too! I love it!! © 2003 big box industries Saturday, September 20, 2003
Suppose - 1. Nothing can travel faster than c, the speed of light. 2. Gravity acts instantaneously across all distances. Given (1.) & (2.), you are fucked. If (2), then something is acting faster than c. For the last twenty years of his life, Einstein worked on unifying the electromagnetic field with the gravitational field, a unified field theory. For the last twenty years of his life, Einstein was a failure. But Einstein wasn't really bothered about his inability to resolve the paradox of (1.) ≠ (2.), because, like most of us, what he was suppose to be doing and what he was actually doing were different. The unified field theory was a ruse, a canard, a cover. Einstein actually spent most of his time working on something far more tangible. Einstein actually spent most of his time working on The Theory of Assotonic Heat Transfer. One of the first things that happened to any unsuspecting visitor who came to Albert's cluttered office at The Institute of Advanced Studies in Princeton, NJ, was that they were asked to sit in Albert's chair behind his messy desk. With his visitor thus sequestered, Albert would, with chalk in hand, approach his green slate board, and for 30 to 40 minutes, blind them with science. Eventually, Einstein would stop his board work and state that his problem was that (1.) ≠ (2.). All would nod their heads in a knowing fashion. Yes, (1.)≠(2.). Here is where something unusual would always happen. After a sufficient and perhaps necessary amount of time, with a rumpled Einstein standing with chalk in hand and the visitor still sequestered, sitting in Einstein's chair, behind Albert's messy desk, Einstein would suddenly state that he had just remembered an important engagement elsewhere and rush the unsuspecting visitor out of his office. As soon as the visitor was out the door, almost instantaneously, Einstein would, eureka, reseat himself in his chair behind his desk of disarray - Assotonic Heat Transfer. Succinctly, the paradox that Einstein was actually always working on, The Assotonics, was - How come when you sit in a chair that someone else has just been sitting in you feel their heat, but if you reseat yourself in a chair that you have recently vacated there is no such sensation? Using Lorentz transformation equations and an adapted form of Lemma I, A≠A, Einstein was able to develop a partial explanation for Assotonic Heat Transfer. However, he died in 1955, with A General Theory of Assotonic Heat Transfer, unfinished. As for The Unified Field Theory, it seems that Einstein resolved the paradox many years before. He suppressed publication of his findings though because he was apprehensive that the additional publicity would hinder his work on Assotonics. After his death, on a sheaf of yellow legal pad paper, in Einstein's notorious scribble, under the cushion that he used on his chair, behind his messy desk, was found the following - "The limiting transfer metric in space-time is instantaneous. If (1.)≠(2.), then (2.) is the unbounded constraint, with instantaneous being the limit as n becomes asymptotic. This condition can be shown to hold for regimes both real and imagined." © 2003 big box industries Thursday, September 18, 2003
Yes, everyone should have one of these things, but I am not exactly sure what you call them. I am going to have to go through my garbage now and see if I still have the wrapping that the little thingamajig came in. Give me 20 seconds. I'm back, not badm, just a few errant coffee grounds. Actually there was some interesting stuff in the trash, but that is perhaps best left for another time. According to the wrapping, the definitive term for the wonderful thingamajig is an "over door hook." You have to love the simplicity of the setup instructions - "To use, simply hang over top of door." Hey, I had my over door hook up and something that had been on the floor - smartly hung - in less than ten seconds. Hanging hooks have been around for awhile, but I have always used the stick anywhere adhesive wall hooks. But before long I always encountered the - "Oh shit! That little sucker pulled the paint and plaster right off the wall." You always need a hook or two though, so I started drilling little wholes in the tops of the plastic hooks and then screwing or nailing them into the wall. It does work but it is somewhat inconvenient. Now with the over the door hook I have no excuse. You buy it, bring it home, open the package, and it almost installs itself. I love my over the door hook. and you are not going to believe this but the hook is almost instantaneously adjustable. one, two, three…if you find a better place it's there. You can even take the hook with you when you travel. Unfortunately over the door hooks do not have a web site. I also checked ebay, no luck. So if you want to be - smartly hung - you are going to have to go out and find an over door hook thingamajig for yourself. And it will probably eventually occur to you that these little widgets also make the perfect gift. © 2003 big box industries Tuesday, September 16, 2003
And they used science to blind them, not so they couldn't see during the day, for during the day their minds were sufficiently occupied, but they used science to blind them at night. They used science to blind them at night because they could not stop the messages in the sky. The truth was in the sky but it was left undisturbed because they were blinded by the light. And the neoclassical synthesis could not explain why Braddon was usually out and about in the evening. And the neoclassical synthesis could not explain why he often, while out in the evening, looked up at what was left of the master's work and pondered. I suspect it had something to do with the observation that he worked late and smoked. Yesterday evening while out, I looked up into the sky. The moon was not up yet and there was only one lone sentry in the sky, all the other points of lights had been banished. Around this sole sentry was a webby haze of red. It was Mars being proud. The reason Mars is shining so brightly is that it is relatively very close to the Earth. Actually Mars is the closest it has been to the Earth in about the last 66,666 years. There is a special relationship between Mars and the Earth when the distance between them is at a minimum. To appreciate this, it would help if you drew a little diagram. The magick is in the doing. To appreciate the special relationship between Mars and the Earth when d = min., draw two elongated circles, more technically ellipses, one inside the other. The inner ellipse will represent the orbit of the Earth, the outer elongated circle will represent the orbit of Mars. Put a dot on each ellipse, the dot on the inner ellipse will represent the Earth, the dot on the outer ellipse will represent Mars. Move the little dots around until the distance between them is at a minimum. The minimum distance between Mars and the Earth will occur at a point where the two dots can be connected by a perpendicular line. When two dots can be connected by a perpendicular line it can be said that they are in opposition, directly across from each other. When I was young I dabbled in astrology. In truth I never had the patience or the skill to draw those quaint and curious diagrams. Still I did do some reading on the subject. It is commonly held that Mars is the planet of war. It is also commonly held that when one planet is in opposition to another, their forces will be heighten. Given the current state of world affairs, it is somewhat wondrous that as Mars rides red and high above, we have war below. © 2003 big box industries Monday, September 15, 2003
Cadence beckons to slow Leaves serenely swirling Early sunsets scamper in Soups and stews and sweaters Scurrying for the flannel sheets Slumbering sweetly with pumpkin moons Surrendering to the sway. How come there is just spring, summer, and winter but autumn or fall? © 2003 big box industries Sunday, September 14, 2003
As you come in through the front door of my apartment, after a couple of steps, to the left I have a small bureau. Like any other bureau, on top I have stuff, my stuff. Each item on this bureau is mine and special. Each item contains a history and memories. I know I shouldn't., I know it is wrong, but I love my stuff. My stuff brings me comfort and surcease.  The oldest item in the snap is actually the bureau itself. When I was young and dumb I went to The University of Georgia in Athens. I was a gypsy back then. It amazes me now how I went from this place to that with such ease. Back then I must have been a magician with great powers. I am reflecting now, going back a bit, actually way back. During my college years in Athens I resided in at least 5 different places, no that's not right, at least 6. Each was as different as night and day. I finally ended up in the most charming garage apartment. I know garage apartment doesn’t sound that enchanting but this one was. It was part of an older Athens' home and the occupants of the actually house were elsewhere. The apartment came fully furnished, everything was old and rich with a history that alluded me. Then it wasn't my stuff, it belonged to someone else. Somewhere on this blog I have recollected how I left Athens and made it to Atlanta, here in Athens one day and gone the next. I really don't remember packing. Back then stuff was not that important, hadn't been with me long enough, no memory hotel. But I finally, somehow, being a magician with great powers, made it back to Athens to hook up with what was, with all the things the world had to offer, mine. Someone, bless their soul, had put all my stuff and then some, in the garage under the apartment. I only had the small truck of a friend at my disposal so unfortunately I couldn't take everything, but I did purloin the bureau and an older lamp. Yes the same shadeless lamp that Braddon uses when he is having phun and writing about everything. Do what you must but don't fuck with me and mine. Mine being the people I love and my stuff. © 2003 big box industries Friday, September 12, 2003
Lately, a big pumpkin moon has been riding the night sky. She's been coming up around 10:30 pm est. That other twinkle in the sky is Mars.  I am a bit upset about the snap. I put in extra effort to label the other point of light as Mars and then I resized the snap down. Guess what? The letters and arrow also get smaller. Will I always be a bonehead? The skinny seems to be yes. © 2003 big box industries Thursday, September 11, 2003
If you are a regular reader of this blog, perhaps you still remember part of the saga of Fred, aka Fred Astaire, dba The Stick Man, the praying mantis who liked pretty. Memento or not, it will behoove you to go back and reread the two prior entries - Hanging Out With Fred and More Fred. Get some magick and do it now. Hit on the link and do that, then scroll up to get the second part, and then of course come back for some definitive proof that God loves me. In the interim, between hanging out with Fred and being here now, I went to Key West. Over this interval I rarely, if ever, dwelt on Fred's well being. He was fading into the abyss, once but now gone. The night before last I was creating stuff. Actually I was developing a new photo technique - rapid fire. With rapid fire you just snap away and give little thought to what you are actually taking a picture of. Well you do think about it a little bit but you don't think about it a lot. You just point and shoot and then shoot again. One doesn't really expect great snaps using the rapid fire technique. Snapping out is designed to help you feel more comfortable with your camera, a bonding, a oneness. Yesterday morning I finally got around to checking out the snaps I had taken the night before. Fun snaps but nothing out of the ordinary. I took a few of the big fat moon in the sky, that as usually, all sucked. I know I can't take a snap of the moon with the camera I have, but I am just a sucker for a moon shot.  I also snapped out a fair number of pictures of my little entrance way flower garden, a soothing pretty chilling in the cool of the eve. There was nothing to blow me away until I got to the last snap. I had taken a snap of some flowers from the steps below. At first it was just more flowers, no big deal. But then my eye caught something off to the left side. I have no idea how I happened upon this incongruence? But Wow! I had been hanging out with The Stick Man last night and hadn't even realized it.  Now what comes next is a little kinky, if you can't handle a menage a trois or drag, you better stop now, turn off your computer and run. After playing around with the snap of Fred a little bit, it occurred to me that perhaps Fred still might be romping about in the garden. So I put on my robe, opened the front door, and meandered out into the morning. Since Fred seemed to have a penchant for the morning glories, I check there first. Eureka! There was Fred hanging upside down as he was wont to do. But oh my God there was a bit more. Fred had found some company. Bless his little heart, The Stick Man had found him some. Fred was getting it on. All night long and still going strong. I thought he was called The Stick Man because of the way he danced, but maybe it had something to do with stamina. I had to get some snaps of this. I wanted to try and do these shots right. I rushed inside and got my tripod and camera. It took me a few minutes to get everything set up, but I was back in no time ready to snap out. I got as close as I thought propriety would allow, turned on my camera and looked through the view finder. Zut alors. A trinity, a trinity, we want a trinity. If two heads are better than one, how about three.  Turns out that Fred was actually Frederica and she wasn't getting it on, she was spawning. I went back out this morning to check on my happy family. For now the troika is gone. When in doubt remember Frederica and hang tough. P. S. Being the ever curious sort, I went out on Google and did a search on praying mantis. Turns out I was right the first time, Frederica, you go girl, is a shameless slut, not spawning but mating. According to Google, females are usually larger than males, and they mate in the Fall. Also instead of giving direct birth, the female creates a large egg casing, out of which a very large number of teeny, tiny, little mantises emerge, much smaller than the two studs shown above. And yes during sex if the male is not careful he sometimes get eaten. Females seem to be always hungry. So maybe Frederica was not horny, perhaps she was just hungry. © 2003 big box industries Monday, September 08, 2003
Did some good stuff this morning. Nothing amazing but stuff just the same. I created stuff this morning and it was phun. Doing something is much better than doing nothing. The magick is in the doing. There are 3 primals that one must acknowledge when creating. First one must start. Second, you will always leave stuff out. Third, creating takes time. I could probably write a book on this trinity but I think I will apply primals 2 & 3. First, I had to create snaps0903, a new folder for pictures I will take this month. Note that there are no spaces in the file name. I have been encountering more and more situations in which spaces are a no no, so I am acquiring the habit of generating files names with no spaces. Right after creating snaps0903, I almost fucked up. I was just about to batch load a few morning snaps into snaps0903, but who would want all their Sept. snaps in just one folder? So within snaps0903, as I am wont to do, I created another folder. I could have named this new folder almost anything, as long as I left the spaces out. I could have called this new folder ladidaday, but I didn't. I called the new folder - creating. I am like a little kid at Christmas right now. I have batch loaded a few snaps I took this morning using the mirror in my bedroom and a few others of some stuff near one of the windows in the living room. They are all waiting for me now in snaps0903/creating. All this and heaven too. I even got to add ladidaday as a new word in my spell check. Once you start creating it is hard to stop. And actually that is primal 4. When creating you do need to develop a sense of when to stop. I hope you got the secret message contained in the above. Get your ass out there and create something. © 2003 big box industries Sunday, September 07, 2003
I thought after a grueling week that we could all use a sunset celebration of our own. So do a little work today, work hard - play harder, and then as the fire in the sky nears it descent, unto thine lips dew press.  © 2003 big box industries Friday, September 05, 2003
On Frêsh Fish several new terms have been introduced into the vernacular - memento - v. to forget / flopka - to not blog / d&s - dumb and stupid. Today I offer another term for your consideration - kubla khanned. Kubla khaned references the poem, circa 1797, by Samuel Taylor Coledridge. As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover!" It was claimed by Coledridge that the poem came to him in an opium stupor. He was committing the vision to paper when he was disturbed by - As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door." someone at the door. And as has happened to us all, when he finally had the time to go back and reconjure his vision, he found that it had dissipated into the abyss. Coledridge's Kubla Khan is the great unfinished poem. So to be kubla khanned is to be disturbed while working on something and then to finding upon returning to the work that the magic that held you is gone. I was writing what follows in Key West when I was kubla khanned - This is the 2nd day of the trip, actually a slight overcast morning, about 9:30 AM. As I am wont to do - haven't you been using wont a bit much lately, deal with it - I am waiting on The Lady in the Blue Hat, the always enchanting Ms. Plum to get ready. This is the 2nd day of the trip and already its been too much Magic Bus, already a plethora of sensations, already a million things to forget and remember. Be here now. King size four poster bed, hard mattress, a good hard though, snugly white sheets, huge just right pillows. About 8 AM, waking up after do everything + 1 yesterday. And when the angel of the new day asked, "How do yee?" They both answered, "East of Eden in The Land of Bliss." And there I was kubla khanned, never again to be able to return. Had I been able to find my way again, I was going to tell you about how while Plum and I were relaxing on the balcony, we spotted a blessing from about, something to mark this as a special day. Off and to the west, in the clearing morning sky, under the green with tufts of white, was a rainbow.  © 2003 big box industries Thursday, September 04, 2003
I got a few emails from the incredulous, who did not believe that in my last blog that little speck afloat amongst the swell and the welter was my sorry white ass. One even indelicately suggested that it was a coconut. In truth it is hard to tell if that little speck in the last blog is animal, mineral, or vegetable. This can be attributed to the action, or rather inaction, of Snap Mamma, aka The Always Enchanting Ms. Plum, neglecting to use zoom. I actually like the way it came out, X against the vortex of the infinite, with X undefined. Although not definitive, the following evidence is offered in hopes of appeasing the sketics.  Ok, so some thought my big fat head was a coconut. Part of the rationale used by the increds was that whatever was bobbing about on the salty sea was way out there, like 25 to 30 miles from shore. "Snaps I hope you are not trying to suggest that your sorry ass swam all the way out there?" Got a comeback for that too.  © 2003 big box industries Wednesday, September 03, 2003
After an arduous return trip, in which we went from Key West to Miami by prop plane and then finally a big jet from Miami to Atlanta, the always enchanting Ms. Plum and moi are back. Its hard to tell if the Keys did us or we did the Keys, but we did have a very enjoyable time. Although very commercialized, Key West has a good vibe - "Don't worry be happy." Within hours of hitting the Keys, the incessant lapping of the waves against the contours, the nooks and crannies of your brain, washes all your frets and worries away, washes you pristine and frêsh. There is a god and he loves you because you have come to hang out with him in Key West.  And I was alone, alone in a welter of mystery and change. I was alone waiting for a tuft of billowy white, pristine white against the majestic blues. I was alone waiting for the billowy white of the sails of a clipper ship, a clipper ship that would take me far away, far away where I would find treasure and be a prince of the sea.  But wait, there was more than one upon the sea, a clipper ship for you and and a clipper ship for me. And we rode our clipper ships upon the bonnie sea. © 2003 big box industries Monday, September 01, 2003
I took some good snaps in Key West, good but not great. The magick is in the doing, and next time I will do better.  © 2003 big box industries I know I am suppose to be - "blogging, blogging, blogging in the name of The Lord" - but after being waylaid in Key West last week I just can't seem to find the energy. But I can hear my children howling in the wind - "stimuli, stimuli, we need stimuli." So how about a little trip? How about a little trip to Bizarroland? © 2003 big box industries
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