Turn To Candy
The inside the head heavy as lead is holding its own, but otherwise things are OK. At least we're all in the same boat at the office, sharing our own brand of gallows humor. I recollect from my days as the owner of a small Novell shop up in wine country that techies had a deserved reputation for vino. Well, wine country, vino, maybe that's to be expected. Maybe it's only wine country techies who hit the bottle. I've wondered how we're able to avoid alcohol down here in gigabit city. Maybe we're not, maybe I'm not paying attention, maybe my cohorts sneak home at night and have their own whiskies and waters, one after another, toasting moon to noon in a veritable gargle. But I doubt it. I doubt it.
Annie was kind enough to ask after the blood in the urine comment I made a couple of days back. Part of having a biopsy. You get blood in the semen as well, but I haven't had an opportunity to check. I suppose you should clean the pipes, so to speak, but do it as opposed to speaking about it. Hrumpf! Early evening, the air warm, a cooling breeze starting to come off the bay, the glass doors to my second story balcony open to the outside, a diet Coke almost finished next to the keyboard, the head heavy as lead feeling behind me, writing about what? Blood? Semen? The product of a languid don't care feeling, I suspect, nothing too, um, pathological. Just another stumbling life here in Oakland.
I haven't really shot a picture in three weeks. No big deal, I'm in non-photography mode. Things will change, the energy will return and the lead in the head will turn to candy.
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