Ramblings and Ruminations

(sounds of boots on linoleum and then a door opening)
(the clacking of the keyboard)
(door shuts)

Seal ambles past with a pair of clippers and goes into the bathroom. Earlier he'd said he might give himself a trim and could I help if he screwed up the back?

"Sure," says I, trepidaciously, "It'll be an adventure."

I hear the clippers buzz as my thoughts drift:

Earlier today, during a pause from work (and smoking behind the warehouse), the idea of co-habitating with M had popped into my head.

"Why not?" I'd thought.

But then a life lived by default is hardly worth living - probably why the thought had popped up in the first place - the need to choose.

Currently I go over to M's most every night, but its always a choice. And so, this too, must be a choice.

I ruminate further.

"All right, its ready," says Seal, ending my reverie. He's not only finished with the hair but has cooked up some burgers as well.

We eat them.

A dark and stormy night...

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Backyard Space Oddity

A day in the life.

You know, its not quite as satisfying as one might think - here I am, at work, posting to my own personal blog. Its a small concession to being one of the "tools of production" but, hey, you get your licks in where you can, right? However, trying to pound away on a dust covered computer buried deep in the bowels of the warehouse - its not quite as satisfying, somehow, as one might initially think.

Besides, I'm on lunch (corporate lackeys take note - at least those who might read this and want to grind me into paste).

Okay, enough stickin' it to the man for now.

More later.

M is M

Man, its hard to write when things are going well. Its like sitting on the beach, watching the surf roll in -then- trying to give an inspiring half time speech. "Just, like, well... do what you can guys... and, uh, the rest will take care of itself, right?" It just doesn't quite fly.

A sign over back door at the Counter Culture Cafe, says:

"Deep in you mind

Deep in your soul

Just let it go "

Words to live by. I can hear Bast, the cat goddess saying these words in the back of my mind. At least that's how it happened in "American Gods".

Yup, work has been pretty chill as of late. Well, okay, the computers did go down once or twice last week, which makes for a particularly fun day, but other than that... its all good, brothah.

And, of course, I've been spending a great deal of time with M of late. Who is this mysterious "M", you ask? Sounds very James Bond. But no, M is simply M - far from mysterious (and yet, not an entirely known quantity). Perhaps "M" stands for "mercurial"...

Today we had breakfast at the US Egg, which has certain historical connotations* but there we were:

She: Dressed in jeans, and scuffed, pointy-toed cowboy boots, a pseudo-leather jacket (stiff as an old couch) and somewhat oily, disheveled reddish-brown hair. The pink stripes in her shirt matched the apples in her cheeks and little green shades framed her shiney-dark eyes, more pupils than iris.

Me: Faded black jeans and a black t-shirt, tan cordoroy jacket, bed head and sunglasses from a 70's police drama (borrowed from M). I should mention that every time I put on the glasses, the song "Sabotage" starts playing in my head.

We ate eggs while sitting in the sun, looking like two aging rockers just rolled out of bed at the crack of noon. I cackled/laughed like a girl (or so she says) while we talked about the feel of dirt, the art of heavy machinery operations, hot wiring cars, avoiding traffic tickets and other stuff.

Add to this: warm sun, hot coffee -and- well, I'd rather still be there than here, writing this.

*I once dated a waitress here, the beautiful, intelligent, and oh-so-crazy "V."