For years I've been saying it. Even the broken record has started complaining. "They can't keep me here forever." Now it's finally coming true. Monday is some "holiday" or other. Tuesday is my first day. First day of the last few months of thinly veiled civility.
Now I have to dig up my monkey pants and wear a shirt. I haven't worn a regular shirt since Construction business took my summer over. But whatever. I look good in plaid, and now that my hair is longish I can blend in with the hipsters and subsequently blow their minds when it's revealed I don't care for popular fads and political correctness.
Fall has come early. I felt the change on the winds a few days ago, but this morning it was in my bones. Me and my folks' crops came in well. My cabbage is good, as well as my berries and my entirely unexpected perennial pumpkin/squash mutants that erupted from the compost a decade ago and trade places every year with vacant patches of soil. Apples didn't take the Summer well, we've only got a couple halves of trees worth, but it's enough for sauce between the two houses.
A few personal firsts have occurred in my life these last couple weeks. A Chinese lady confused me for White Jesus the other day... so I changed her soy-sauce into Mead and cured her Yellow Fever after I taught her how to walk on snow while reciting the Lord's Prayer in Old English. Hey. It beats the time some Protestants in Guatemala pegged me for a White Devil and set me up to be fondled by a Michael Jackson impersonating clown when I was still a church-goer. (Ironically, they were fine with me when I went back as a Pagan the next year.) Went to the Flea Market today where I've officially reached 'regular' status with a few of the vendors. I got some Saggitarian Incense for a buck and a beautiful Madonna (the Catholic Saint, not Hollywood Whore) lamp. Now this, friends, was a fine example of Maine haggling. Crazy (charming) old Catholic lady from Away wants to off all her stuff, sells it for next to nothing. The lamp was 55 bucks originally, I scored it for 20. Old, Catholic lamp. From way back before Catholic art became flat, boring and... well... modern. Blonde, Venusian Madonna - could've been a Viking Mama... and blonde, vaguely effeminate Jesus... ah, those were the days I was born too late to see.
Later on a neighbour had a yard-sale. Bought me a co2 gun for to practise shoot with. My plan is to learn accuracy and then invest in a firearm for home defence before owning a gun is banned and our Amendments are amended into oblivion. I had a nice chat with my next-door neighbour. I played with their son as a boy. He's grown up. So is their daughter. She's now a cute young lass, charming. Which makes me feel like a revolting creeper because it feels like yesterday that she was in a bloody baby carriage and her older brother still had a Tonka truck. I also found a book called Anam Cara which I've had my eye on for ages now, pegged it for a pair of quarters alongside a collection of Irish Bagpipe ballads. Cool beans.
I'm also learning how to turn slipshod online correspondences into actual, real life (unless reality turns out to be fake like everything else) relationships. Huzzah! Maybe now I won't die a prematurely aged, drunken spinster! Ha-ha! I love optimism. Almost as much as Rum and cultural documentaries. As much as I dread going back to College, I will make the best of it. I will destroy my inner negativity, just like I waged war with the mouse that broke into my house and breathed on me while I was sleeping. Yes. Like Saint Paul declared war on Death, Antisanctus Paulus will wage war on pessimism... so with that, let's drink to irony. And hopefully, everything is well with all you bored enough to have read this far.
Listening to: Renegade Roundtable
Reading: The Armanen
Playing: Elder Scrolls: Skyrim
Eating: Cherry Greek Yogurt
Drinking: Kraken Rum