Rhymes with Schmubris

Ok, below are little bits and pieces, scraps and crumbs, flotsam, jetsam, moreorless-sum and sundry fal-dal-ra collecting on the virtual honeycombed silicone mat of a desktop. They may or may not have newer bits of connective tissue or not, fuck I don’t know. If I read through it, I’ll have to decide to toss them or not and, well, shit, I’ve abandoned my journals for sloth and instant gratification and more hostile social media. So, you know, here are some half-chewed bones, maybe the better half.

 

 

Middle of the first six months PTEA (Post Trump Era Apocalypse) mean North American time, and to distinguish this day from the one just like would be an examination of minutia. And yet, this day last year was wildly different. Wasn’t it? I have a feeling the next major breakthrough in either technology or spiritualism or both is going to involve magnetic pull, like organism to organism. Either that or some galaxy, and I’m not naming names but it starts with an M and ends with an -ilkyway, is getting its slate erased.

 

All things considered I think I have a pretty optimistic outlook.

 

To some extent social media has the same old lies as usual on it but more so and more intensely. I think there are like five conversations humans can have with sub categories and variations based on gender, function, service, that sort of thing. I think Bob Dylan wrote at least ten songs about each one and their variations, probably before you were born, dude, when life was great. Shakespeare tried to work that shit into his plays too, like, before even I was born, but I’m not sure people understood him.

 

Here in the Doesn’t-Know-Time-of-death-was-last-week-America there are only two conversations and they both end in violence.

 

Trump has sunk beneath my contempt. Those that merely support him, well, it’s the joy and frustration of the democratic process. It’s those that conspire, those that know he’s shit and sell him as filet mignon that I want to see in jail.

 

Neurology Dr Rosenbaum

July 22 11am

 

I’ve been cruising websites for mad scientist equipment. Never has the phrase “a little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing” been truer in my lifetime. I’m pretty successful with solventless concentrates. At most I would risk a burn. I’m looking at closed loop, blast, BHO and CO2 extractors now. In my fantasy I don’t blow myself, or you, the fuck up. I have not, however, pulled the trigger which I think is pretty damn not reckless of me, so far, given that reckless is my go-to cure for boredom. The ICU and the burn units are never packed tight with the bored. Not at first. Johnny get your gun.

 

When I was a newborn up until his death, my father’s nickname for me was Paws as my hands seemed disproportionately large for a newborn/child. My pet name from my current GF is paws for an entirely different reason yet is demonstrates some symmetry to this life if not this world.

 

This global time out is going to inspire some to greatness, some will never fully recover their sense of self. My considered opinion is such things would have happened anyhow just with a different catalyst. Useless speculation unless it can be tied to a cool plot and you can get aa advance.