091817

It was a dark and stormy night

And the wind howled around the house like some demented refugee from a cut-rate upstate loony bin, closed due to mismanagement sometime during the Depression, not the one I'm suffering from, nor the meteorological one trying to rip my home loose from its crumbling and shoddily made foundations, built sometime during the upper Jurassic by an unprincipled and mentally defective expatriate from a now-defunct construction company fired from every job they ever held since the beginning of time, but the big one, the one they all talk about even now, that sent overextended investors screaming in despair and terror, soiling their pants on the way down, to plummet face first into the cracked and weedy cement of the formerly glitzy sidewalks of Wall Street, and straight through, into the sewers, the subways, the miles of sand, gravel and clay underlying the moldy old apple, now a mere ghost of its former glory, the most objectionable festering plot on this putrescent and over-rated spheroid, right down to the bedrock, the crust, the lithosphere, passing through the mohorovicic discontinuity without taking the slightest bit of notice of that all too illusory boundary between two things that really don't have a boundary at all, really are no different from one another, really don't count for much of anything in the big scheme of things, the asthenosphere, the outer core, but not the inner core, that blazing lump of iron and nickel, stewing in its own millennial, or would that be billennial or perhaps gigennial, juices, but staying in the outer core, swimming about in the lightless soup, under frightful conditions of temperature and pressure, nearly as great as those causing their recent defenestration and unprecedented descent into the bowels of old mother gaia, terra, dirt, or what have you, swimming forever, in a goldfish bowl so vast and impenetrable that they would never be seen, smelt, felt, or otherwise detected by their companions in banishment, if companions they could be called, given that they know nothing of each other, or even of themselves really, for do any of us really know ourselves at all, or by any other entity in the entire creator-forsaken universe, other than yours truly, whose distorted imagination has simply conjured them up out of nothingness, so it really cannot be said after all that they are detected even by me--but I digress.

Publ. Drowning Atlantis,2007