Up, up and away

I'm going up. Way up. They tell me there is no humidity there. No people.
The good life.

I'd put a vacation flag up, but I hardly post enough for it to be down. So, instead, I have offered some readings from the previously unpublished absinthemind archives.

That's right folks.

All that black soot holding the mind together.
Now yours.

Only $2.99 a minute.


.. I really should make a paypal here.

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10.22.05


Alone.

The hours approach morning, and the word begins to gain new meanings. A black crow, it begins to slowly flap its wings in the wind of the coming morning. Somewhere far away, a taxi scratches its way through the grid of this island.

Alone. Me and the clock. Tock, tick fucking tock.

I want to sit on my roof, breathing the last warm winds of summer, cutting the moon like a watermellon into slices, having a feast with old friends. But the gusts are cold at the peak. I shudder.

Soon it will be morning. Soon the ants of the world will step out from their buildings and apartments, emptying out into the streets, seeping through tunnels and elevator shafts, filling the world with a march of random, well articulated noises. Their proud hymn will fill radios and televisions everywhere.

But for now the world is empty. White from the moon, it lies flat and round beneath it. Towards the morning the world loses a dimention, becoming its own shadow, collapsing onto itself. Flat, like a clock, it keeps running, keeps breathing. Soon, morning will come. Soon, this all will be gone.
It knows this. I know this.

For the time being, it stretches its larger hand towards me.
I shake it.

Thanks for the company, I say.
Thanks once again.