...
I put on some of my Kush perfume oil this morning. It's a musky bergamot number I bought from my admired Ghanaian Seventh Day Adventist shopkeeper friend in Berkeley some twenty years ago. I bought a shit ton of it to make sure I never ran out, but had to give it up when I lived in Little Valley because the bees wouldn't leave me alone if I didn't.
I think I may not have exclaimed enough about how this year my lavender bush that every year has one huge fat bumble bee constantly at work on it had about fifteen smaller bumble bees and about five regular honeybees constantly at work on it. Either the lily growers are easing up or the decision to move the chemtrailing a few miles offshore must be why, but the bush has stopped blooming and I'm probably safe to smell like a bee bonanza now.
And I need it in my little side project to get back on my main projects. I called the whole thing off the other day when my left eye suddenly went berserk on me again. Whenever that happens I have to take my contacts out. Then, beside all the photosensitivity and goop and itching, I just can't see for shit. At least half of my big sweat with my new chair assembly was the fact that I couldn't see well enough to get the screws on their marks without a ridiculous amount of extra strain on my whole body and my shriveling eyeprints and sweat-fogged glasses.
I was too pooped to sleep after that, even though I sure wanted to, and spent most of the night with old Robin HBO specials yimmering in the background of my dozing waking dozing waking dozing waking frequencies hissing and whining middle of the night boogie. This morning I'm not aching so badly I can't move, and that almost certainly means I'm so far out of shape it's going to take two days for it to hit... or all my flailing around in this stupendous mess has made me fitter than I think. Pick.
My face wants another day before I put the contacts back in, but my refrigerator is shaking its head. Not gonna happen. It says I must get behind the wheel and go out in search of nutrients. And my stupendous mess, which is quite noticeably less stupendous, is still far from ready to accommodate the stupendous mess-mitigating shelves that are being built for it. And my other planet-gobbling project is demanding another copy paste print frenzy. If I let it cool off any longer it will get the idea I'm afraid of it.
In short, eyeball, fuck off. Back at it.
always and any time....
