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September 11th, 2006

re: Nicole on a parched plain



Sunday we stopped by JC Penney to pick up more clothes for me. My various choices about the quantity and qualities of the things I eat required some wardrobe adjustment.

The kind fellow who helped me a few months ago, Pete, proved to be out on an illness leave, having managed to use our solitary day of major rain recently to get soaked, and then turn ill. But another man named Sol helped out. It turned out that his company had a huge sale in place. He brought me a good few suits which listed at 300 to 600 dollars, each on sale for fifty or so. I needed more than one suit, so it was a pleasure to purchase from him.

At my Weight Watchers meeting, I won a drawing for a water bottle. Winning a water bottle is rather like winning a cake in a cake walk, except that one need not walk and there is no frosting. I listened to an mp3 called "Brilliant Daze" by a fellow named Pat Chilla the Beat Gorilla, and enjoyed my afternoon. This weekend, by coincidence, I remixed Mr. Chilla's work into a dark ambient piece and posted it on ccmixter. A google search told me that a "chilla" is an Argentine grey fox, also known as a grey zorro.

My Livejournal friend bardcat kindly asked me to go for a walk during his business trip to our fair if parched metropolis. We drove to Arbor Hills Nature Preserve, where nature is neither canned nor pickled, but resonates with the preserve-like sustenance of grape jelly. In this case, however, it was rather like hot jelly, which sounds vaguely disturbing, and thus I'll substitute the phrase "hot chocolate", which is, after all, only a bit away from a Sundae.

The susans and Mexican marigold were scorched, and the thistle had lost its purple hue. Yet coreopsis and cowsill bloomed, and the trees had the light green reminder of recent rain. We walked in the paralyzing heat and talked of poets Jeff had met, and the sundry things about which I know nothing but hold forth liberally.

I slept an essential nine and one half hours, after days of inadequate sleep, and had a dream in which I interviewed a hirsute Tom Cruise, who did not like my questions. It was all like in a dream, because it was a dream.