Looking through glass eyes. Circles and spirals, curves and turns are the rule of the day.

Lemonade and frozen oranges for breakfast. Puckery, and I’m glad I didn’t brush my teeth *first*.

Shadowboxing before the morning shower.

The opposite of tunnel-vision. Walleyed?

Maybe it’s time for a buzz-cut and reset. This urge will pass.

Considering doing a pulp-style radio-show phone entry. Maybe a retelling of something written in the past. Something brief, maybe 20 minutes or so? Been Digging Firesign Theatre again lately.

It’s going to be all right. Oh blinding light.

I would’ve been great as one of those megaphone singers from the 1920s.

voe-doe-de-o, voe-doe-de-o, doe

Maybe a ukulele.

I’d look terrible in a straw boater, fake-raccoon jacket and striped pants, waving a pennant.

I could say 23-skidoo all I want. I guess I can still do that.

The term “entrenching tool” still makes me laugh. Shovel. It’s a shuh-vel.

“Before the beginning, there was this turtle. And the turtle was alone. And he looked around. And he saw his neighbor, which was his mother, and he lay down on top of his neighbor, and behold, she bore him in tears, an oak tree, which grew all day, and then fell over, like a bridge…”

Dreamt again of taking a ride with Newt in my own private rail car.

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Moment of Lyric –

Won’t do no good to hold no seance
What’s gone is gone and you can’t bring it back around
Won’t do no good to hold no searchlight
You can’t illuminate what time has anchored down

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Remaking Night Stalker with Stuart Townsend?

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