flour flingin’ insane

Walking back from the library tonight everything chinked together. Nothing really changed, but it was like someone threw flour into my chai tea and thickened things up. It was the cold breath of October on my skin. It was the divine voice of a saxophone solo running its fingers down my spine. I realized I had been hung up on my hang-ups, so I just tossed ’em aside; didn’t get hung up on having been hung up on my hang-ups, either. There’s no sense in regression.

Things were ridiculous again. I thought about ancient Egyptians sucking the brains out of their pharaohs with straws… and realizing that they didn’t have shop vacs back then so there was only the good ol’ cocotte way of producing suction. Just like siphoning gas out of a corpse. Perhaps out of a Safety Deposit Corpse.

Today I ordered the Cowboy Bebop Limited Edition Complete Series of Ass-Kicking Anime and Hot Jazz Boxed Set. Spent a bundle on it. Saved a bundle by not buying each session separately. Use this handy quiz to figure out which Cowboy Bebop song is right for you.

Reality is fleshing out again, bringing with it the surreal. I overheard this in the hallway, today:

“They had a funeral for the circus. Charlie was working, so he couldn’t be there.”

It’s comforting to know that for how much I think I know about what’s going on in my world, all I need to do is take one step sideways to be completely flummoxed.

It’s reality, twice-removed.