http://web.me.com/jthomas09/ The_Planetary_Archives/The_ Planetary_Archives.html
Well, I know it's ugly but my limited skills as a computer operator got me to here. I am not apologizing. Check this guy out. He's an old comrade of mine. I like him.
I've done the link thing, tried it out, and it works, but sometimes it's all fucked up.
My guess is the FBI is fucking with him, but it's just a guess.
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ReplyDeleteI'm playing catch up here.
ReplyDelete"Cheer me up, motherf@cker". "Louise the Commando".
The apparent paradox of spoon feeding birds while the cat licks its whiskers in the long grass. The balance.
I woke up this morning and took Milo next door to change and entertain him so that Rosa could sleep in. It is Sunday. Breakfast seemed like a tall order. I let my attention wander for two seconds and the empty cup of coffee was not so empty. Two little lakes percolating into the carpet, and Milo grinning like a lunatic.
I think I'd maybe better leave off the wine a while. Maybe for good.
I may no longer give Dean Martin a run for his money, but the habit is fucking with my agenda.
I followed the trail to the Desperado's hangout.
The portal seems to be working fine. Too much for me to attempt to digest right now, but I enjoyed the macro photography. The attention to detail. That $10 camera.
The application (for funding ?) depressed the hell out of me, but I read the proposal anyway. 'No Handwritten Submissions'; 'No Irish'; 'Keep Off The Grass'.
The civil process of form-filling never fails to ignite the fear in me. As uncivil as it gets, bar threat of gaol or famine.
I let Rosa fix Milo's breakfast finally while I scrubbed at the carpet with some solvent I found in the kitchen cupboard. Banana. Rusk. Strawberries.
It looked a good deal better than anything I might rustle up.