F*CK WITH THE SKINHEADS AND DIE

Today I went northwest to burn some sh*t at Bo's idyllic log home with the giant backyard and 13 cats. Make that a baker's dozen plus eight nursing (via bottle, 4x/day) orphan kittens who are just starting to make Tootsie Roll turds, not to mention the three silent black ones from another litter that hide under the bed so you can barely make out the outline of their ears (more on them at www.animallog.blogspot.com). Within moments of my arrival one or some of the elder pussies managed to douse the small box of The Vexx's gifts to me in fresh urine. Not unlike when Fritzka vomited on the TV after the 2000 election. So catlike, those felines.

After a tour -- the house is big and unbelievably comfortable with a yard like a forest preserve -- and catching up and bottle feeding the we'ens (no I did not bring home a new sibling for Kirby -- yet) we began the Fire Ceremony, in which we offered to the flames some Links to the Past That Have Been Weighing Me Down, Man.

Not sure yet if I feel lighter, esp. in the wake of the awesome Mexican dinner we consumed afterwords (all good Purgin' Sacrifices should be followed by a splurge), and which included homemade horchata that tasted of fresh cinnamon (think liquid rice pudding).....'Twas such a fine day I feel like I was gone *for some time*. Perhaps I was.....Man.





N.C.

Swingers

Seventies Saturday Night on Magic 104

Beanbag Chairs from Target

Catnip Teddy Bears

Old Friends

Fire! Fire!