Stranger To The Water.

I was flipping through the cards, amazed of the contradictions I was being shown, such as Defeat manifesting Victory, such as the galactic truth that Victory is Defeat, and Defeat Victory, and perhaps, as is said, "there are never any winners".

The muddling speaks of nature, a stream troubled, perhaps, in which the sediment clouds the waters, or even a timeline, a sequence, to be defeated once and then victorious: I looked at it and I puzzled.

The very gayest little stick man...

 

Your grandfather, circa 1949, shining his shoes and having a bottle of something brown, but not tea, not tea brother, but something more revoltingly antiseptic; he could have been even then having a go against nature, despite that nature reclaims her own.

There's no explicit "Tiddies" tarot card, I observe, but a few with female nudes, like the girl and the bucket, "This Is The World", and I'm like yeah, your ass wishes, Cheever.  She's got a bucket full of your pocket change, mayhap.

Melvin Vernon Presnell...

Pater Familias had some Jo-Jo's corn nuggets, and I thought it was more an intellectual exercise, decoding some of current events, while yet one was supposed to un-purse his buttcheeks some and "just go" with the feeling.  One could suffer adversely, health-wise, when going so much against nature, and losing the feeling that whatever will elapse is coming to you, anyway, silver bullet, no side shuffles or deviations, baby.

I liked that Mary Cawdor from CLT.  She kind of stutter-stepped into my imagination.

I was listening to a Ted Talk and cutting my toenails and the whole thing was kind of a Gestalt, that if I wrenched meaning from it, such is the way, I had brought my own problems and used it as a Chi Mai kind of Chinese Click Clack to decode the thing.  This is the future.... this is the past...  Bitch, I know the past, already.

Shit, I was there.

"What had happened was..."

Tsu Tsen had a big old batch of ideas, and I even saw there were pups in the waiting for springtime.  I had kind of a consternation that my oldest cat was pregnant, and I had to prune a peach tree before summer.  All things on the radar, you know, and the control center stays in that inspiration mindset so much, kind of an endless musing.

There are chiefs, and there are indians.  Sometimes your the chief, and sometimes youre the indian.

Tsen had made a low country boil, for one thing, and I didn't care usually for just a boiled plain little hodge podge of random stuff from the pantry, but this was Tsu Tsen, and you were supposed to act like you enjoyed it, or he would get upset and lose his shit.

There would be in the offing some vagrant uslurper, doll-like, and bent of spine, fortune's little bitch boy, and so forth, fumbling up and down on waves and looking at the angry but still pulsating of the gray water: a uslurper, a pretender.