Friday, July 01, 2005

And so it begins...

As perversions go, mine are pretty mild. This is one of them. On a nightly basis to pour thoughts onto paper and coerce well meaning soon to be former friends to look me up in the universe of blogs.

I've been told once too often by serious, talented editorial people that I'm funny and a good writer. I ought to put those two things together. Personally, a more significant goal would be to put me and Natalie Portman together but since she's foresaken dinner theater in my area...

Natalie just turned twenty four. I celebrated by circling Portman Square in London twenty four times for my morning run. I'd like to think that she would be touched but I have to admit she'd more likely be indifferent.

Not only that, but that was the run that stretched a tendon in my knee to the point of such pain that the next morning, getting off at Oxford Circus, I was doing my best "Elephant Man Shuffle" trying to keep up with the rest of my crew. Hey there, Hopalong!

I foreswore dinner with the group that night and decided to stay in my hotel room, venturing out for only the briefest of refreshments. The proper curative for injuries such as I've sustained is the RICE treatment. Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation. I applied the PUB treatment that evening. Rest, then proceed to the PUB. Once inside the PUB, order a refreshment endemic to the PUB. Enjoy said refreshments inside the PUB. At some point in time, come home from the PUB.

It's not the most enlightened sports medicine, but it cured a myriad of ailments that night.

When not on the road, I live in the country. This country's country. There's a certain freedom that comes from living in rural America. There's also a certain abject terror in that you're never quite sure what's out there. I have cats. They go outside. I go out in the evening to retrieve their furry little selves against their wishes. They have issues with that but they are still quite alive and healthy at 15 plus years. I feel that not exposing them to the wilds at night has a lot to do with it.

So I go out cat herding in the evenings. Flashlight in hand I shine the beam in passes that hope to catch the classic reflection of an animal's eyes. Cats reflect pretty well. They usually show up in a beam of light the way a Soviet Missile Sub would show up on active sonar.

PING! Holy fuck that's big!!!

More than one night has come and gone that I've caught an eye reflection in my flashlight beam, tracked it to it's source only to have my cat meow at me from behind, seemingly saying: "Uh, dipshit, you gonna pick that skunk up?"

"No. Thanks for clearing that up for me. Now, how about some nice kibble?"

And we rule the planet.

It's July now, and the fireflies are hopped up on firefly acid and are blinking on and off with a vengeance. Watching them as a group, I can only think of an audience in which a thousand flashbulbs are going off in random patterns.

As such, I'll be out on my back porch, thanking my loyal fans for their rapt adoration.

Told you my perversions were relatively mild.

Welcome aboard. Enjoy the ride.


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