Surely every season sees days of grey that blot memory of life-giving light. Yet this grey feels more ominous, more complete, more awful, more intentional than a mere southern squall line or western front. This is no front, but the vanguard of the heavenly host riding to finish what so blithely we began.
From dead bat-choked cave, field of uranium, silo, from unmarked grave issue dark warriors obeying our every command. Deny it we must, but call them we did.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Keep your responsible investing schemes and your 501(c)(3)s, Priuses, compost, and grass-fed beef in your 401-k tax deferred superfund, fully vested in a halflife, dollar for dollar, up to 33% APR. Keep it.
Dial up your sleep number, program your coffeemaker, set the cruise control, keep it in the black, produce.
Get better ideas faster easier. Free time to sculpt yourself into tumescent Rococo twirls, twists, bulges.
Soak in the chemical bath, fight fibromyalgia, schizoaffective panic disorder, carpal tunnel vision, succumb to input addiction.