Ptarmigan

a grouse with completely feathered feet

10/07/2002

I don't think Evening and Quail like each other very much. A supposition. They've only met a few times, at least in my presence. Now, granted, my presence is often thin, full of ether. Sometimes other people's hands pass through me. Sometimes it's not as though I can tell them apart. But once an old man told me (and I have taken these words to heart, to cortex): "Let my armies be the rocks and the trees and the birds in the sky." Exactly. Evening just bought a pike on Ebay. I'm not sure what Ebay is. The whole idea of creating a marketplace on this Inter-net seems a little fishy to me. As in, how many fish can be caught with something that doesn't exist? I dream of bazaars, cattle-callers, auctioneers with stetsons encrusted with diamonds and chalcedony, hawking the gawkers in an endless city. Promising wares but delivering bits and shreds.

E.g., Quail tells me Ebay is a lie concocted by MSHA. The extraction of minerals is crucial for mass hallucinations.

It's too bad I'm not an investigative journalist to investigate.

But wait! My own "weblog" gives me credentials, authority, a voice behind my voice.

The moral? ALL IS NEVER NOT ALL LOST!







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