Notes from the Perimeter: Vampirism & Sun Spots
I’m not ordinarily in such moods, but events conspired today as all kinds of oddities descended as though from the Heavens, spinning my orbit if ever so slightly and sending my mind Reeling as if going spool spool spool would set things straight.
It began walking the dog, she of Stout Heart and Feeble Self-Control, near the Southern Fortress, congratulating myself for living in such a place of balmy sunshine and the occasional mudslide and earth rupture. I listened intently to a biography of Jim Morrison on audio book, hearing of Venice Beach lore and the combining of artistic fortunes and future synergistic Glories. Looking to my left I witnessed several people running toward me on the other side of the road. On a narrow sidewalk a dog (of unknown Stoutness and Self-Control) raced, pulling a young man with flowing blonde locks as though on land-based water skis. He was seated on some kind of office chair, whooping and screaming, throwing his arm in a big lasso maneuver as though a Rodeo King of the Old West.
I kept on, minding my own business as best as possible, though I knew strange things were afoot. Upon my return home, I settled in for a brief respite and lunch in front of my treasured DVD player. To my surprise, it was broken: Check Disc Error. Error indeed.
I entered my office, content to throw on my iPod, Genius invention and savior during many recent slides into boredom and torment. It too was broken.
Sun spots. It must be sun spots. Or misfortune entire.
But that’s not all, is it? Vampires seem to be roaming the streets now, perhaps in reaction to Joss Whedon’s rude yet recent yanking off the national airwaves.
“All I’ve heard is that there’s a fellow who is going round attacking people like a dog and biting them,” said Josephine McNally, who works at the Old Barley Mow pub in Ward End. “It does put the wind up you.”
Then the spate of the bizarre broke to the good, the winds changing as it were, as I heard from three potential employers that would, in theory, pull me away from my novel (waiting and begging to be finished) and pay off important and possibly vital debts, both of the Soul and the Material.
For more on this and every other topic under the sun, check out:
Dumpster Bust: Manufacturing Miracles from Mind Trash, Since 2003Powered by Sidelines