Of course it is later now and the weather has ceded to scattered clouds on a back drop of midnight blue, sliver moon, stars hither and thither.

That fortifying cocktail was to be had at Claude, an establishment I have been quaffing in for eleven years. As Mel says, we are like old furniture in need of varnishing... well, I made up that last part about varnish, our varnish is the various libations he serves us according to our whimsy.

After the menfolk had left, it was just my dearest, dearest Mme. Barrelofagun. We made a ladies night out of it in the lower Haight at the lovely RNM. Ahi tartar, black bass, duck confit and a bottle of pink champagne between us. Yum. V.V. Sex almost in the City, minus the couture and the fact that I am not (very resentfully) getting properly laid - she is.

As I wended my way home, I was lost in thought, or something very close in approximation. As to the why for's, where for's and why on earth I dream't last night that I had sex with a porpoise - and that is unfortunately the tip of the iceburg... I don't even know where to de-convolute that I was dreaming about a child molester that liked to cut up his young suckling victims was suddenly reformed at a wedding, wearing a white suit like the pied mother fucking piper.... I blame it entirely on that horrific photo of jeebus in the NY Times missing half of his flesh.

and so I have wended my way home, to my big bed, my big empty bed, and I am feeling intensely ambivalent about that. I like it so. I like it not.

so I am playing the Flaming Lip's, possibly loud enough to disturb my neighbors and contemplating a hot bath

segue a propos of everything:

I am a luddite, intensely suspicious of the Information Super Highway (does anyone employ that term anymore?)
And yet the lure to write for the world in (relative anonymity) proved to great a siren song to resist.
So I have commenced to "blog" a verb that I find rather unsettling, because it reminds me of smog, fog, cog, slog, tog (my dad's nickname) log, jog all words that are harsh and unwieldy, all harshness and dissonance. Then again, perhaps that is the nature of laying bare the soul for anyone from Kabul to Urbana.

That said, Mme. Barrelofagun had a splendid evening entre dames, she had sound advice about the defaults of FLFF, and we had some good laughs. When in doubt, never doubt the sagacity of a girlfriend. After all, it was she who nursed me through the fallout of my divorce.

and that muck divulged, it is my clawfoot wonder tub who beckons me to his hot blooded warmth.

"do you realize, that you have the most beautiful face, do you realize that everyone, you know someday will die....