Three Straight Days Of Blowing Shit Up

Did the word go out, and I didn't get my notice, that this year, to commemorate the end of the reign of George W Bush, we will blow shit up every night, just to drive dogs, and children who go to bed early, and sensible old women NUTS????

And here in Utah where, in fact, it is still savage, we will do it twice a night, just because it's so damn fun!! And god knows, we're rolling in dough. Bring on The Rocket's Red Glare, The Bombs Bursting IN AIR!!! Will it go on all damn month? Will it go on until that MORON is gone, finally, at last? Or are they desensitizing us for the coup d'etat to come? Is King George getting us ready for the big finale? Keep the windows rattling night after night, and then do it for real, and nobody will notice. Just another night of KABOOM!!!

Two Down And One To Go

We survived two nights of fireworks. Two nights of Cyrus trembling and trying to crawl under my bed. Too bad for Cyrus, he just won't fit. Maybe before next July I can raise the bed a little. Roscoe was with us last night, and he did spend most of the time under my bed. I think it helped Cyrus to have the doggy company.

I am doing well enough today, considering. A bit of rapid cycling bipolar disorder kind of scrambles the brain. This makes clear thinking impossible. Not that I'm usually all that clear thinking, but this is worse than usual. For those who have never experienced the brain storms of rapid cycling, it doesn't compute, doesn't make sense, seems like an excuse not to go to work. I'd love to work on fiction, but don't quite trust myself enough to even tinker with a story in progress--I could screw it up with one delete, and then never be able to remember what I lost, perhaps the only thing that made it work. For all I know this is complete gibberish.

I once asked my first love/last love why he stayed with me. His answer was, "Well, it was a challenge." I asked, "Was it worth it?" His answer was, "It was never dull." It seems damn dull to me.