Meta: Evel is dead and the holidays are nigh.

To Evel: you crashed on many a sidewalk. Caio, my child hand.
To circumference: again mountains, again the good acre, for circles.

P.S: Take your meta and your want: go fuck your hard angle flying motorcycle into the flames of many easy gallery text. Heed ye here feller.

Q: when lightning strikes, how many sidewalks...

Symptom: misogyny?
Cure: take a note; turn quietly away.

Stuffing and overflow

Symptom: holiday séances, bad lighting, and email mis-addressed to you.
Cure: steam rooms and the miracle of goggles.

When the simplest things become abstract (l'abstrait, merdum)

Symptom: memory not low, but off the charts. You can't seem to shake what it means to lie in your bed now and gaze out this window instead of that other one.
Cure: continue working and working on the cure which is all in the recollection of that other view. Honor thy neighboring past.

Last night I had a dream about my old cats

Symptom: television has convinced you that there is a real problem.
Cure: the little animals.

There is a grey hole in this blog and I don't know why

Crazy: It's December

Failure: 100 hours working today and you feel you have been flattened at the bottom of a sieve, circa 1950.
Snowing: it is ice.

November 29, Hyde Park, Chicago: Morning, Noon, and Night

Symptom: you realize that you can't help the way you think, or look, or notice.
Cure: it is what it is. Holiday party. No costumes necessary.
Bonus outsider input: "You are a genius to the extent that you are able to challenge the sociohistorical conditions of your identity." Kristeva

Que pense-t-elle?

Symptom: official proposals will be written, dossiers will be composed, and all tasks will be accomplished, wrapped neatly.
Cure: bumper sticker: prioritize and relax. Two birds, two birds, and a bowl.

Hands across America

Symptom: tonight you are tired and speechless. Snap.
Cure: clapping vigorously will at times help the driver avoid a collision.

Family puzzles and the Astral breast

Clearly: moon-bows are spectacular and above all rare.
Absolutely: the same goes for cousins.

Say no more

Symptom: thanksgiving decorations must be passé: you have not seen one cardboard turkey, there is a paucity of gourds, the color combination of orange, brown, and yellow is no where to be seen. Additionally, at a recent dinner party, you realized that the generation behind you no longer knows what a "dunce cap" is, much less what it looks like.

Cure: Chicago--St. Paul, MN--Crystal, ND--St. Paul, MN--Chicago: be thankful. Be a pilgrim. Avoid dunces. Embrace doors.

xo

Then she

away up around behind within right back track
into she (click) into, so he

I repeat myself

Symptom: these are dinners.
Cure: span, wine, print.

Today part II: Because similar gestures don't similarly mean.

Lost: i hope you are well. Quels moments chaleureux.
True: the sun to you, in Texas, in everywhere.

Do you see what I see?

Some of you: yes.
Some of you: nope.

Momentary

Bonus Symptom: Speechless.
Jackpot Cure: Loquacious.

Sightly: rhythm is here (oblique portraits con't)

Finger: damn, girl, you pretty. I love my family.
Thumb: i'm opposed to: negativity, depression, self-sacrifice, distance. xo.

Cautionary tales

Upside down symptom: go around; memory persists.
Upside Up cure: say the word excitement; straight ahead, and around. Sleep more, drink less.

Decisions have been made

1. sunday is no longer what it used to be.
2. mixité; pining is passé; revisionism; lamb chop.

Chapter V: Semantics

She: i i i.
Interlocutor: ii.

Hieroglyph

Symptomathon question: if there exists a DVD bible, does spending 14 semi-productive hours in front of your computer transform your sinful traces into a collection of sparkly accoutrements? Do I come off like my grandmother's best friend?

Curathon: No.

There are ghosts everywhere sometimes

Jackpot's Symptom: amsterdamed in Houston; with dogs. Heaven can't wait.
Cured Bonus: don't mention it. I didn't see a thing. Pure fancy.

Whatever is called for

Symptom: not everyone goes by the rules.
Cure: change hotels, change shoes, change outlook, ghost tea.

She's a burger, she's a bee, she's a bounty

Symptom: when you were 10, your mother forbade you from dressing up as the half-man/half-woman---the line right down the face, make-up and mustache. You then had to simply opt for the 100% Lone Ranger. White jeans, a mask, and a mustache.
Cure: carefully study re-framing practices. Recall that things are still telling. Continue removing your mustache.