Pooka Smile

My imaginary make-believe is crazy about me.

I stop taking Effexor, what do you make of it, she's still there.

I stop taking Seroquel, think I'm alone at last, what do you make of it, she's shooting rubber bands at me while I'm composing a letter to my shrink on the computer.

I get sober and go to the AA dead end club, first night, then every night, what do you know? She had a coterie of friends. Evidently she was their leader. It was interesting. One wore glasses fixed with scotch tape and had a band-aid on her nose, and I about swooned in love. Pooka laughs.

I ask her name and it's different everytime, except it's always the same too. E.G: "Elizabeth Jane Boswell-Royce", "Edith Charlotte Vanderbilt-Benz", "Sara May Chevrolette".

She is a spirit with airs and I'm falling in love. Send help, I'm a bachelor.
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Something about this Monday had a suggestion of realignment with actual Monday, I mean the rest of the world's ordinary, get to it Monday. I was up early to drive a friend across town on some errands, so I got to witness some rush hour traffic, which is unusual. No big hurry.

We hit all the red lights behind the same van, and toward the end of the trip, spiraling into the suburban woods and winding roads, it seemed we were a part of a caravan, wtf? I worried the passengers would think we were following them. And they did seem like the paranoid types, too, what with 50 bumperstickers on the back all lauding what's bad and proclaiming up was down, left was right.

That took enough time so that I went on to work as if that were my original project. It was noon, so the alignment was already off just that tiny bit.

But I enjoyed this Monday Monday. It made me reflect how the money in my wallet is not conterfeit, or borrowed. This is all currently in currency, all I got here. Means I can trade it for oil without having to kill a third worlder (or the third worlder is already dead, I don't know. Read ALL those bumperstickers).

Then I got off early as usual because my job is a phony baloney job, and yes, that was a little more misalignment but still not much, not like I've been accustomed to for weeks and weeks. Tomorrow is definitly Tuesday, that's not just wishful thinking.

Email from New Zealand. Now, wait. Yes, it's dot NZ. A friend of a friend, asking me where is our friend?

TV. Two days in a row of 9/11 retrospectives.

Out of the blue here, but I read at Lileks the other day that the Worlds Fair of 1939 lasted well into 1940. I don't know why, with a sort of top heavy momentum you have when you stumble? He noted that Italy had closed it's pavilion.

Gave me the chills, made me mad to read that.

It was already Tuesday. Or maybe it was Sunday there, I don't have my kick-globe anymore to check where the international dateline is.

Pooka rang my cell phone and said I'd driven past her in the rain. No complaint, just a hey, guess what, I was right there at Cherry and Broadway and didn't get your attention in time.
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Nine eleven seems like yesterday except for putting us in a completely different age.
The video of Tuesday morning, nine eleven, such a clear bright (election) day, warm for September. People on their way to work. The cheery Today, GMA shows with the fans outside holding signs 'Hello Here We Are!'

Watching that shook me terribly, for some reason. The violence of the day, the crack in the world, not so much anymore.

And now I am writing after midnight and listening to Love and Theft so I can get around someday to learning Modern Times.

Now that you're thoroughly confused, I'm satisfied. Thanks for visiting! And have a pleasent tomorrow.






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