Tuesday, March 20, 2007


My first love left via a hall pass out the bathroom window. Said she’d left her quadratic equations down at the Five and Dime.

“You mean the Ben Franklin,” I said. I wasn’t a complete fool.

“What-ever,” she replied. Standard evasion—make me look the fool, Lily Allen all over my face.

I should have checked the signature on that pass. Since when is Costa Rica a haven for mathematicians?

Aunt Dillory was next. This, I expected. D was profligate, jejune, high concept—all the things I am not. Hasta-Gro, the essential element for her diet; spirulina, a distant second on her list of life’s frequent mettle. I shop the AM dial; Auntie Dill is all about the high def, so when the Gil Scott-Herons is on the box, the Alon Proteus be blastin’. She was, and is, staggered isobaric, completely off the chain.

Uncle Albert was a surprise. Bertie may be all about the butter-pie, but there’s still plenty of X’s and O’s left in his West Point yammer. I’m not one to quibble, but Uncle B was clearly beyond repair when it came to the Heather Mills fiasco. And it wasn’t the high fandango of prenuptial hoopla, either. B was all about Miss Linda. Heather weren’t no Yoko, but she weren’t no Lady Jane neither. I kid you not. B might as well have been talking transfiguration, for all the Damascene steel in his walk.

Not rocket science to figure out the rest. Who let the dogs out? Greengrocers, naturally. Lupine manipulator from way before Eisenhower, I should have known better. Baytown chapel-monger is no excuse: I’ve been there, I was schooled in small print, we’ve all ridden the Beastie Boys before Reagan got nasty. It’s the genuine thing—PRD. Greenie is a sly pasta: bovine may care, but not the dipsy rasta.

Leaving me with little choice. I could subscribe to the afterthought, or get right on board. Boogie boards have their place, certainly, but then so does inorganic isomorphic. You visualize what you can, and then pray for rain like the rest of us. I needn’t remind you, I’m sure. Katmandu or Cripple Creek, I always say—and the choice is less varied than you think.

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