Lobotomies are Self-Inflicted These Days

WELL!  I ventured into this horrid world and dined with civilians.  Bully for me.  One of the few restaurants I love in this area is Tomato Cocina Latina.  I am a fan of the Plato Argentino: a skirt steak covered in chimichurri.  My only disappointment was that the beef was not as substantial like other visits.  Damn the economy! Regardless of that, it is cheap and good.  There is the thing.  Ya don’t have to pay out the ass for a good meal. I always pay too much for food.

I have all the necessities for chimichurri. A visit to the fridge and the garden make it real. How nice to enjoy it without exposure to those pesky humans.

Well-stocked pantries make living easier. Yet, if in good company that doesn’t piss a being off with every sentence, it is pleasant.

I had a pleasant evening.

However, I did leave the house and that is rare for me.  Most of the the time I care not for humans.  I can babble, join Facebook, and Twitter until my drunken joints tell me to cease.  The binding stitch is that simple friendships mean more than antics and unfortunate situations. Some times.

I pause for a pink caress.  I was not worthy of blue.  Ya have to earn those and that is tedious.

My thumb is gray.  All the lighters fail me this eve.  I find ignition with an elderly Zippo.  Butane is so much easier than fluid, but vessels are empty.  ALAS. Poor me.  GUFFAW!

Can I express DRAMA with cigarette ignition?

Perhaps a mask? Jessye Norman as Jocasta.

AHHH… That makes things better.  Stravinsky did well with some help from Julie.  She ain’t Nijinski, but Disney pays better than Diaghilev these days.

I guess my petulant rumblings are strictly personal these days.    I babble about me and care not of the outside world; unless it perks my interest. OR, invades with such a vengeance I retreat.  Such is my ways.

I am not Icarus.  Golden chariots hide under dust. The sun is always too vivid for me.

Such is the tedium of my world.  All I wanted was the cover of Frank G. Slaughter‘s Daybreak.  I found every other Slaughter paperback I own, but the one I wanted, nope.  Typical.  When a lobotomy love-affair is needed, I can’t find it. I bought that one in hardcover.  Every lobotomy story is best in hardcover.   Violet, where is the doctor?  Gone. Gone. Needles were buried with necessary chemicals.  O’ those chemicals.  I enjoy them.  We all do.

Lobotomies are self-inflicted these days.

Since I can’t find the book I need: GULP,  Zippo, ignition, adieu.

Enjoy Jessye.  I need her headdress this evening.  I am certain it would make my cheekbones less squirrel-like.  Saving nuts for future enjoyment is cumbersome.  Always swallow and walk away.

Oops…  HA!

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