Hey guys. My friends took me to see the orchestra last night as a present. There was a DVD taping of some sort, we sat behind the giant boom camera that kept floating back and forth and around, and about halfway through the performance, the camera became an alien face, entranced by the sounds, backing off when the noise swelled, being drawn closer when it quieted. Anyway, one of my friends raked me for not updating. And then Jeremiah volunteered to help me out. He's a heck of guy, coming through in pinches and stuff. Any one else like to do a guest post? To keep this skeleton going while I recover, let me know. Oh, and I'm supposed to say Jere is the greatest man, since he's tired of being the only one saying it. It's true though. You should buy him a drink, he's the best for talking.
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Hi there! So B is down with a rough instance of the Feelings and so I offered to help her out just a little bit by talking at you here. It's no trouble! Why, aside from being covered in spiders I barely have anything to do today. Seriously covered in spiders. Also, I guess I should mention that later I'll catch the red line down to 79th and Quincy to do some tutoring at the Fairfax rec. B says this is handsome of me, but my answer is – there's not a lot handsome about trudging a mile through broken glass. Kinda like there's nothing too appealing about a fellow covered in spiders. What can I do my patio is silly with them, little yellow jumpy ones with scablike brown markings, I bet they're hideously poisonous, I bet they have some kind of appalling courtship regimen that involves cannibalism, cannibalism and sex, together – that's the spiders' way, creepy little things. Anyway! So tutoring is a thing, it's fun, but you never can tell about how useful it is to people. Math. Not my subject, but elementary school math is elementary, and teaching is teaching so it's kind of a wash. Kids pick it up or don't – with Math it's all about planting seeds see – turns out these higher order abstractions -language is less than number is less than numeric operations -only really gel in your gentle learner's mind after a couple of years of lying half-used and dormant. That's fun to think about – you're a sleeper, a beautiful Russian girl, trained to do algebra and one day, one day you'll even be able to do it – True Fact – the Kremlin will one day bother you about the quadratic formula, and when it does? Well, no amount of Facebook friends will shield you, you will go back to the motherland and have to gulag it up on some ice-clad island north of maxima thule, so far north that every view is south and no amount of goodwilled chinese geomancers can help you out with your (another one of these jumpy bastards, what am I covered in ants? Again?) can help you out with your Feng Shiue oh Feng Shuei! Remember when you interested people?
So what I meant to get to was this – the Train. You can't ride the red line but you don't hear gossip that it's getting shut down. People are always saying Windermere is going to close. Lake of Winds – that's kind of what it means isn't it? Sea of winds? Some franco-angleish britonic lingo. It's not that windy there. Anyway that's as far as the old rapid goes, past all the trainyards and there's always at least one guy, you know him – ridden by the crack loa? You gotta know this guy – mumbles like a has-been Russian spy, too long in the frozen north? Man that guy is kind of guy, and you know when you see him coming – you know he didn't bring his own cigarettes, you know he's the president of the Nation of Moochers. True Fact – this is the Nation of Moochers. Maybe I'll buy a pack of like, GPCs for handouts? Maybe that'd be handsome of me? Who knows anything eh? Like, can you even still get GPCs? Anyway – that guy, he's got one of the crack talismans – famous in the world I think, he's got that stick and it's covered in dog toys, stapled/nailed – it's some kind of a thing, who knows what it is? Fascinating is what! The dog-truncheon, it's pretty easy to imagine that half-dead from exposure and animated by the cocaine necromancy this guy's learned the deep language of dogs, I mean! Just get a whiff! Isn't that how dogs talk? Scents and odors? That's how my dog talks to me, gross bastard. So this guy, he's the pack leader? Zombie-Dog-Apocalypse and he's the elder statesman of the new ZDOrder? That'd be alright – I mean, you just gotta get on his good side, have a cigarette to spare for him, maybe some spare change so he can catch the red line with you – ogle the case girls down on cedar, ride it to tower city for... well who knows what? Probably it'd be fatal to follow that guy, probably you'd end up knowing too much about the All Dog Army and then?
They identify your corpse by the dental records, found in a Detroit ave pothole, half-buried under broken glass. A half finished note scrawled in your own blood. Cause of death – Lycanthropy. True Fact man.
Anyway – should you manage to avoid grisly death you do some kindness at young Ms. B – she's a good sort and deserves a lot of presents, like in the shape of heart-shaped money and Dunkin donuts gift cards. Promise!
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I don't know about the money, but coffee is always accepted.
Jere writes at Kingtycoon, which is totally a protected Livejournal so you can't just read it, but if you're into that Livejournal thing still, he's one to read.
