Murmur barbells half expect Underfoot
—Ted Greenwald
And “Girls allege verbs smell.” That Ted
Greenwald; he of lovely nonsense! I’m
half tipsy from his poetry this morning
(2am) and happy tinged with sad (this
Gemini has a birthday coming up in a few
days!). If I were paranormal would I not
be so normal? One can only hope. And,
therefore, a boy can dream.
Boy, speaking of birthdays, I’ll give you a
hint: my 30th year high school reunion
is coming up in a few weeks. The 30th
anniversary of my graduation from
high school! I’m not going, of course.
Too much nonsense in my life already.
No offense to anyone with whom I
graduated. And it’s not that I don’t
stay in touch. There were only
around forty of us, but Facebook
somehow keeps us engaged with
one another (wouldn’t it be unlikely
we’d be in touch otherwise?).
Three of my classmates have passed on,
apparently by their own hands. True or
not, what a lousy thing to know. What
a lousy way to go. Or? I’ve no idea
if that’s true, much less, if it were to
be, what the individual circumstances
were that would have led to such things.
Which brings me back
home, to my lovely bed in my lovely
apartment on lovely Nob Hill in lovely
San Francisco, California. Upon which
sits me, myself (the Geminis), and a
purring cat who answers to the name
Coco the Loco (though sanity, as she
(2am) and happy tinged with sad (this
Gemini has a birthday coming up in a few
days!). If I were paranormal would I not
be so normal? One can only hope. And,
therefore, a boy can dream.
Boy, speaking of birthdays, I’ll give you a
hint: my 30th year high school reunion
is coming up in a few weeks. The 30th
anniversary of my graduation from
high school! I’m not going, of course.
Too much nonsense in my life already.
No offense to anyone with whom I
graduated. And it’s not that I don’t
stay in touch. There were only
around forty of us, but Facebook
somehow keeps us engaged with
one another (wouldn’t it be unlikely
we’d be in touch otherwise?).
Three of my classmates have passed on,
apparently by their own hands. True or
not, what a lousy thing to know. What
a lousy way to go. Or? I’ve no idea
if that’s true, much less, if it were to
be, what the individual circumstances
were that would have led to such things.
Which brings me back
home, to my lovely bed in my lovely
apartment on lovely Nob Hill in lovely
San Francisco, California. Upon which
sits me, myself (the Geminis), and a
purring cat who answers to the name
Coco the Loco (though sanity, as she
well knows, is in the eye of the beholder).
