The focus of work is on idolatry.
Often it is intelligent, sometimes it is stupid,
but most of the time, it just plugs along
unassuming in a manner unnamed,
because it is so common as never
to have been named anything at all.
Consider: It's okay to laugh
all day, if you have to. Not that you love
Caesar less, but you love Rome more.
Understandable. Light rain falls on a frail
girl. Not a real problem. Solution: standard
black umbrella. Cat which regularly
upchucks on good rug. Solution 2: outdoor cat.
Solution 3: outdoor rug. Problem 3:
it rains. Problem 4: it rains a lot. Solution 5: sleep
while it rains. Solution 6: Sleep with a frail
person in the rain. If only
eating the bits of magic cheese were so
easy. Consider: Catholics
have become Protestants and Protestants
have become clubhouse members. O,
one of these days we shall read cheery books:
Once upon a time there was
a once-in-a-while when she would slip
off her shoes and climb into bed
with him. He thought it a kind gesture, this
running of the socked toes through his hair.
He thought he might like it. But
he was nervous -- what if his dandruff leaked
immoderately? Or if the cat had allergies?
There were a million excuses
he could think of not to let her slip
off her socks. But the east wind was
shifting itself southerly like
a good group of southern aristocrats,
and their aristocratic tendencies
kicked in. Charity endureth all things, my
friend. Their arms went flopsy.
Bacon and greens, wine and olives, brandy
peaches -- all laid out for them. Truth,
however, would not be so
comforted. Soon, they were into each
other like ice daggers
which melted away in lukewarm blood.
Reinforcing mouth parts, both buffalo and bee
hunter vanished without a trace. The sky
made its achoo-achoo pattern. Strangers
replaced themselves with strangers
still more strange. It was
something to depend upon, like the good
deeds of false gods. Like the intoxication
of victory, a short minute
after a seminal moment is night.