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It was a quiet night in the apartment. Of course, there was the stuttering staccato of the fireworks outside where the humid air was heavy with the insistence of future storms.
Off in the distance, up north, up near Skiatook way, round about 10:30 at night, the clouds where highlit with lightning playing high, high up in the clouds, writing names of the Gods themselves upon the firmament. The lightning was horizontal, which is always a cool thing for me to see. Long zippers on the sleeves of the clouds, flashing their shiny for all to see who could see them.
I had and have a bit of a headpain. It's not an ache, per se. It doesn't ache. It is like a hurty itchy place under my skull, high up on the right side, near the top. It's a curiosity to me, and usually indicates that something odd is about to happen. Good or ill, I can't say. Or could be someone is calling my name out, really hard, in their mind or prayers or somesuch.
Might be my friend Carolyn, out in North Carolina. Haven't heard from her in about a week or two. It may be that tomorrow I'll get the news from one of her sons that she's passed over. Might be my mother, who lays in a nursing home in Terre Haute. She's been nothing more than a torso and head for the last ten years. If it is either of these ladies, then it would be, in my mind, a good thing and a blessed release, as they have both paid with pain this life they've led and it wouldn't surprise me in the least if they finally got their ticket punched for the ride home.
Or it might be a friend, just thinking really hard my way. I never can tell until after the fact, unfortunately. That would be a comfort, in a odd sort of way, that someone would be thinking so hard at me that it attracted my attention by giving me a head pain. My life is funny like that.
I'm just sort of hoping this pain is a harbinger of something good.
A peal of thunder just went by. Rumbly and deep, a purple shade of noise, smelling of sea salt and burn wire. I like thunder. Mom used to tell us that it was the gnomes bowling or playing mumblypegs. I forget exactly which. But it was gnomes, I know that much. And frankly, I don't think it matters if they were bowling or playing badminton. Those folks play rough. Not human friendly rough, either.
Looks like, by hook or by crook, my chums and I will be coming to Whitehart that last weekend. I plan on being there on Saturday and Sunday, so I can see my sis, the Queen, and hear Queen's Gambit. I'm not a big ol' fan of Celtic music, but I'm a big ol' fan of Queen's Gambit. And the Dogges. Pirate songs just seem to call up the saltier parts of my past and make me want to swagger and say "Aye! I've sailed the Horn, drank with the Danes and touched the Rocky Gibraltar! Settled in Sicily, I did, and talked shop with the Pope!" Dunno if I would actually say that, but it sounds cool inside my head.
Still, the world is full of changes and it may be only Saturday, which would make me sad, as I would only want to be there for my friends. But if I can, by gum, Sunday will be in there, too. Just because if I can, then I will.
Another peal of thunder, this time sounding dark velvet and the shape of a moving van. A big old freight train of thunder, running off the rails and skidding along the scree. It crawled along for about 5 seconds, and must have been big enough that even the night dragons paid notice.
Aw well. It's night and 11:30 sorta. I reckon I best head for bed or something like it. I have to be up and at work by 9 am. Not that 9 am is all that early, mind you, but I tend to stay up way too late then I need to and if I don't pretend to start now, I'll be up until 3 am.
Here's hoping that all of you had a safe and colorful fourth, and you stayed cool. In fact, I'll just close by saying that you are in my thoughts, and I wish for you all enough. There's a slighly crazy, not very tall bald man who cares about you all and holds you in his head and his heart.
G'night, chillins.
Off in the distance, up north, up near Skiatook way, round about 10:30 at night, the clouds where highlit with lightning playing high, high up in the clouds, writing names of the Gods themselves upon the firmament. The lightning was horizontal, which is always a cool thing for me to see. Long zippers on the sleeves of the clouds, flashing their shiny for all to see who could see them.
I had and have a bit of a headpain. It's not an ache, per se. It doesn't ache. It is like a hurty itchy place under my skull, high up on the right side, near the top. It's a curiosity to me, and usually indicates that something odd is about to happen. Good or ill, I can't say. Or could be someone is calling my name out, really hard, in their mind or prayers or somesuch.
Might be my friend Carolyn, out in North Carolina. Haven't heard from her in about a week or two. It may be that tomorrow I'll get the news from one of her sons that she's passed over. Might be my mother, who lays in a nursing home in Terre Haute. She's been nothing more than a torso and head for the last ten years. If it is either of these ladies, then it would be, in my mind, a good thing and a blessed release, as they have both paid with pain this life they've led and it wouldn't surprise me in the least if they finally got their ticket punched for the ride home.
Or it might be a friend, just thinking really hard my way. I never can tell until after the fact, unfortunately. That would be a comfort, in a odd sort of way, that someone would be thinking so hard at me that it attracted my attention by giving me a head pain. My life is funny like that.
I'm just sort of hoping this pain is a harbinger of something good.
A peal of thunder just went by. Rumbly and deep, a purple shade of noise, smelling of sea salt and burn wire. I like thunder. Mom used to tell us that it was the gnomes bowling or playing mumblypegs. I forget exactly which. But it was gnomes, I know that much. And frankly, I don't think it matters if they were bowling or playing badminton. Those folks play rough. Not human friendly rough, either.
Looks like, by hook or by crook, my chums and I will be coming to Whitehart that last weekend. I plan on being there on Saturday and Sunday, so I can see my sis, the Queen, and hear Queen's Gambit. I'm not a big ol' fan of Celtic music, but I'm a big ol' fan of Queen's Gambit. And the Dogges. Pirate songs just seem to call up the saltier parts of my past and make me want to swagger and say "Aye! I've sailed the Horn, drank with the Danes and touched the Rocky Gibraltar! Settled in Sicily, I did, and talked shop with the Pope!" Dunno if I would actually say that, but it sounds cool inside my head.
Still, the world is full of changes and it may be only Saturday, which would make me sad, as I would only want to be there for my friends. But if I can, by gum, Sunday will be in there, too. Just because if I can, then I will.
Another peal of thunder, this time sounding dark velvet and the shape of a moving van. A big old freight train of thunder, running off the rails and skidding along the scree. It crawled along for about 5 seconds, and must have been big enough that even the night dragons paid notice.
Aw well. It's night and 11:30 sorta. I reckon I best head for bed or something like it. I have to be up and at work by 9 am. Not that 9 am is all that early, mind you, but I tend to stay up way too late then I need to and if I don't pretend to start now, I'll be up until 3 am.
Here's hoping that all of you had a safe and colorful fourth, and you stayed cool. In fact, I'll just close by saying that you are in my thoughts, and I wish for you all enough. There's a slighly crazy, not very tall bald man who cares about you all and holds you in his head and his heart.
G'night, chillins.