Here In Portland
Friday. Up this morning and out on the road at seven-thirty, the head, well, the head hard to say since it generally feels OK when I'm sitting (and driving). Better by far than yesterday when I was cruising in a warm soup of hallucinatory distractions communing in my subconscious with the little creatures, the Id creatures, the pastel thoughts and notions blending into the faces of other driver's on the road. The bastards. Fortunately I have the 9mm sitting on the passenger's seat beside me in case of trouble. No bullets, of course, but we've been into the anti-violence since that last time the walls closed in and they sent me to those sadistic fakirs at the funny farm.
Too purple? Perhaps, but here I am in Lake Oswego just south of Portland tired and thinking I'll take off for a week or two next month and see if being away from the apartment (and perhaps Ms. Emmy) has any effect on this malfunctioning head. I've checked these things before, allergies and the like, but usually by visiting here with my sister and they (of course) have a cat.
You'd get rid of Ms. Emmy?
Not in your life, but I'm thinking it could be those damned tick-spider-ghost-microbe-blood suckers that live in the apartment rugs, rugs that need more than vacuuming, that likely need another tenant or a small fire. Then perhaps I wander. Could be that whiskey last night? The “Last Chance Liquor Store” I stopped at before crossing the border didn't have the smaller 100ml size, which I rather like because it contains exactly three shots of whiskey where the next larger size which I bought contains, well, more. More is not always better. Did it help when I awoke this morning or did it hurt? And that mad dash to the bathroom after breakfast, could alcohol have played a part? These questions occur as one drives through pouring rain as I drove through rain this morning and early afternoon passing those little spiky scaly creatures with their pointed ears thumbing a ride with their fins. Were they real? Were they he's or she's, mixed or matched, one or the other? Do you yourself ever wonder, when you're out driving, what might have caused that driver in front of you to suddenly slam on the brakes? Spiky scaly scary creatures abound. Let me tell you. And not just in Oakland.
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