स्त्री दोग ब्लुएस & Hues

So I'm thinkin' after the Aughts we might leave the park at Queen Anne Gate and walk down Queen’s Gate Terrace. Walk robotically down and down and down.
Psychic automatism in a state most pure, by which one proposes to communicate -- verbally, by means of the written word, or by some other manner-- a virtual performance of whatever conceptual razz-a-ma-tazz might feel age appropriate. Time has come today. As it was in the beginning, aye, there’s the rub, eh wot?

We must prepare ourselves to look simultaneously at the river banks laden with Mickey D’s and David Blaine hanging from multicolored boxes (see: Boxing Day, Lady Day, foggy day in, and/or You Deserve a Break Today) – and to, or at, the older scene where Iris Murdoch’s stories took place, which formulate or foment-- your call-- reflection re, like, after the Romans first settled here v. the city’s constant transformation against earlier versions of itself. Against interpretation.

Waves, raves. Knaves, staves. The pink claws of the morning can be so primal. The charismatic adjacence of the Thames implies spirit, and, maybe, a loss of self in cosmic unconsciousness dictated by stray dog thought-- the absence of control exercised by reason, exempt from any aesthetic or moral concern. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Bringin' in the sheathes!

Yes, any variation seems to remain a great-barrier-reefer 'twixt our inner sense of becoming and the non-human character of the outer world, which, according to that ancient materialist Lucretius should not be characterized as either one of becoming or being, creation or destruction. Three phases of Brahman. I mean, hey, don’t put me in a box!

Current Conditions

ब्रोकेन क्लौड्स विथ मिस्ट

or "Broken clouds, with mist,"

On CNN today-- they seem very obsessed with the weather, and they're running
miscellaneous city forecasts at the bottom of the screen to enhance a sense of urgency (and, to snare viewers on their way to the Weather Channel). One said, for Grand Rapids, MI: "Broken clouds, with mist," in big dark letters, like JELLO. I like that.

So I figured I'd document that, right here, right now, before it becomes
lost & alone in the mist of day[s]. But when I typed that into the allotted
space in the posting mechanism for the title, it came out like this "ब्रोकेन क्लौड्स विथ Mist".

And I dunno how that happened, but, just in case, it's important, like
maybe a message from beyond our universe, or something-- I've included
it here in the body of my post.

Sheesh! Sun spots? Holiday spiritus run amok?
I mean, really, now what?

Now what? Aliens beaming messages from the top
of the Chrysler building? Flies in the buttermilk?

 What's a mother to do?

--mge