Dodge

“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.”
— Martin Buber

“What we will become waits in us like an ache.”
—Lucille Clifton

“No one knows the way”
— Tony Scalzo

Feeling like it's time to get out.  I'm ready. I'm through with it. I'm gone. Zip. Where am I going? A room, the church, that tall hotel, a city, the country — I'm going to unhouse, head out, relocate, ramble on, kick the can on down the road, out of here, out of town, outta dodge, like some wandering western outlaw bandit, with 5G wifi and a twitter handle.

It is time to take a breather. Time to give this place some space. Time to coast. Time to take a break, shove off for a bit. Get some fresh air, a change of scene, a change of pace. Time to get going. Time to shake things up. Sow my wild oats. How about an Odyssey, an upheaval? Move on, move out, move on up. Disappear. It feels like I'm ready to pop this cocoon and metamorphose. Gonna beat it, gonna break out, gunna bust, bunna burst and bloom, better run, it's best if I was on my way, good and gone, spreading out, time to go.

I'm yearning for a fresh start, a new lease, a new beginning. It's time to wipe the slate, go back to the drawing board, tabula rasa, square one, a clean sweep. Ready to reboot, reshoot, reload, and restart. It's time to teach this old dog some new tricks.

They say consistency is a spiritual virtue, but maybe they didn't mean sticking with the world of ritual but consistently beginning again? Plus, why stay in a place you don't want to be when you could be happier and do more good elsewhere? I'll admit, it's a loose jointed argument. Not everything fits together, however not making much sense does not mean that I haven't thought it through. I have thought it through. I just haven't been able to come to any other conclusions. Another benefit of distance is hindsight. Maybe I'll see it once I'm gone. One thinks of the pigs, the one living in a glorified hayfield, untedded, who, upon recognizing the piggishness of his ways, suddenly craves more and runs squealing to the other, in a mortar-less log cabin, which doesn't hold up, sending them all oinking along to the third in his ripe brick bourgeois bungalow. Let's huffenpuff and blow those fuckers pork loins until they get it right, sayeth the wolf. There's a tiny hole in my heart, I feel like I could stopper it with my thumb.

It must be where I'm centered, where you lay me down on the turntable (or, kids, the CD Player) in order to spin me around. But I'm ready to patch the scratches and lay a new groove. Perhaps my hopeful optimism here is evidence-defying. As I said, I'm not thinking it all so much as weighing the feel of the thought. It feels like it's time to move. Let's see where this feeling takes us.

Dose from the Databases du Awesome

What's French for Awesome?


You internet people scare the shit out of me, d'jou know that?
As Cummings once said when asked what he thought about poets,

“i wish y'all'ud put on some pants /and/ get off my lawn/"(He didn't)

Trouble is, evr'ones doin' it. It's INTERACTION BAAAAAAABYYYYYYY. woah. It's a harrowing vision in the middle of the night. I go looking for one little word to translate and the internet assaults me. (Practically.) Up the butthole! (Basically) (not really...) (Ass.)

A maelstrom of information! A bacchanalia! A clobbering, as my uncle Enrique used to say (I don't have an uncle Enrique)

I drift through the scarce nights without a job, without a whim, nations rise and fall, scanning, scouting, scouring, all the while for various & sundry things like:

1) how not to overspend on my medications, One of Many: TamiFlu
2) Q) Where does plastic come from? A) Plastic tress? Maybe I got distracted
Dinosaurs!
3) Dead Dinosaurs?
4)Obliquity as it relates to moral rectitude
5) Bananas as they relate to breakfast...
7) "Making money out of paper/ paper out of trees/ We’re making so much money that we
we can hardly breathe" Name that quote!
Not yooo Mrs. Google!!
(Ask.com had Jeeves so sometimes we like to pretend that Google is a Victorian Lady named Countess Hortense le Goog. She searches for things for you, rather crossly at times, but who can blame her- - all that fectulance out there)

Acidulous!
I- I- mean ridiculous. Here's a picture:

Here's noather pciture - - a- - I think it's a playbov/ bvnny exclvsiue just for DMM Fans, and and cool people. And hot chicks:

Oh. OH well, “Betrayal ain’t just some river in Egypt"*
Good thing I don't have many more of those.
(Actually we do.)
Shh.

There's a post it over my computer that says:

Stop.
Breathe.

And it's good that it's there. I need to be reminded sometimes. Because it really will all be okay. We all become who we are meant to be. Eventually. Some just halfta sail adrift in the Worlrd Wiiide Web-megrim a bit longer than others.

Alright time to go do what I do, and break the record for having the most sculpted abs IN THE UNIVERSE!

Impressionnant! That's ther, *ahem; C'est le français pour awesome!
(et au cas où vous poseriez la question, en 'Dutch', c'est: ontzagwekkend)
*Michael Scott, thatswhatshesaid! (.com)*