Thursday, May 11, 2017

Flower Moon

Last night was the full moon.  The Flower Moon, they call it.  Ili and I went to the lake to watch it.  Big and orange, it was.  But the night went swell and I slept normally.  Perhaps that is why it is called the Flower Moon.  Sweet and gentle.

Maybe I should have cropped this picture so that the man was better centered, but I like the random David Lynch quality that I imagine it to have.

I probably should have done the same with my life--centered it more.  Rather than living the dream, I read the wrong things.  I was sold a bag of shit.  I've been living someone else's nightmares and calling it literary.  C.C. says he is changing his mind about book burning.

My recommendation, kids, is to stick with the classical writers like Lee Iaccocca and Donald Trump.


  1. And Bill Oreilly. You forgot him. Loads of houses I do have the complete set of all of these "writers". They are the houses that all look the same. Sure they are million plus - but they hire the same decorator and most times I cannot keep them separate in my head. All the same. Even down to artwork by the "right cape cod artists." Sure ... They have golf memberships and the wives wear re JMclaughlin and Lilly Pulitzer.

    The kids are now running the businesses and have big houses - complete with all the "right" furnishings.

    But they are soulless shells. And you can "feel" it.

    the moon was beautiful. Surrounded and framed at times by clouds cast with pink and purple. It was a fine interruption from the Devils Circus.

  2. Yes, they are winning. They have won.