JUST ONE OF THOSE DAYS

[The Good Reverend Roger]

It's that kind of day where diseased bill collectors hammer on your door with golf clubs, screeching someone else's name, someone you've never heard of.  It's that kind of day where you hear about some long-lost friend being eaten by rats.  The kind of day that makes Dark Empress Nigel smile just a bit.  The kind of day where the sun beats down on you mercilessly, and there's not a hint of a cloud in the sky to block the sun for a moment and let some light in.

It's the kind of day where attractive people go missing in clubs.  It's the kind of day where the junkies just pile up around the bus stop benches, and nobody can figure out who has jurisdiction to sack 'em up and drive them around to the burn-anything boiler at the power plant.

It's the kind of day that it was when Cain met Abel.  It's the kind of day where Jesus is just too busy to save you, so you're going to have to do it yourself.  That sort of day where even the Pagans can't get excited in the park, and the Mormons all stand in the shade and tell themselves that they'll save some people soon.  Just not now.  But soon.

It's the kind of day where you feel like sand weasels have been gnawing on your bits.  It's the sort of day that Judge Richardson - rest his soul - would have appreciated, while he swilled rum and puffed his way through a pack of cigars.  One of those days where you don't know if it's - as the English say - arsehole or breakfast time.

In short, it's just another day in Tucson, just another day in Side Effect City, and it's not limited to those of us who actually live here.  Tucson's very democratic, you see.  When you look around you - and you will - today, you'll see what I mean.  Nothing's quite right.  Things are skewed just a bit. 

It's just that kind of day.

Or Kill Me.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

PS:  Sometimes, these days last for a week or sometimes even longer.

Your Holy Man™ has spoken.

[Luna]

PS:  Sometimes, these days last for a week or sometimes even longer.

Your Holy Man™ has spoken.

I had a moment of hope that it would be just today.  I'm better, now.

[LMNO]

It's been a few months, by now.  But I've noticed there are variations.  You have the same muddled day five times in a row: head filled with wet cotton from lack of sleep; skind becoming mottled and slack from flourescent exposure; a packes subway back and forth; a half-eaten meal; a futile attempt to crawl under the covers.  But then there's a different kind of day: you crawl out of your bed, obligated to do all the things you have to do but haven't been able, along with everyone else; a snarling mob on the streets, like jackals fighting over the last antelope at the watering hole; then you try to do your best to forget your life by spending it in a bar; or better yet -- at home, on your couch, with empty bottles of whisky/wine/beer rolling on the floor; TV blaring, consuming your attention, telling you what's right and good and filling all the cracks in your soul, if only temporarily.  and we call that "fun".



...

Ah, who the hell am I kidding?  Band practice three nights a week, dancing at the GAY BAR on weekends, me and the wife getting into trouble whenever we can?  If it wasn't for this whole "making money" thing, life would be pretty damn perfect.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I had a moment of hope

That's when you get all starry-eyed and silly, right?

I've heard about that.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

It's been a few months, by now.  But I've noticed there are variations.  You have the same muddled day five times in a row: head filled with wet cotton from lack of sleep; skind becoming mottled and slack from flourescent exposure; a packes subway back and forth; a half-eaten meal; a futile attempt to crawl under the covers.  But then there's a different kind of day: you crawl out of your bed, obligated to do all the things you have to do but haven't been able, along with everyone else; a snarling mob on the streets, like jackals fighting over the last antelope at the watering hole; then you try to do your best to forget your life by spending it in a bar; or better yet -- at home, on your couch, with empty bottles of whisky/wine/beer rolling on the floor; TV blaring, consuming your attention, telling you what's right and good and filling all the cracks in your soul, if only temporarily.  and we call that "fun".



...

Ah, who the hell am I kidding?  Band practice three nights a week, dancing at the GAY BAR on weekends, me and the wife getting into trouble whenever we can?  If it wasn't for this whole "making money" thing, life would be pretty damn perfect.

Remember, LMNO...You can be anything you want to be."  It helps if you repeat that a lot, while you're riding in to work.



And nobody ever said it had to be BAD.  It's just one of those days.

[Luna]

I had a moment of hope

That's when you get all starry-eyed and silly, right?

I've heard about that.

Yeah, that's it.  You get all giddy, for awhile... then somebody shits in your sherbert and it's all over.

[LMNO]

Remember, LMNO...You can be anything you want to be."  It helps if you repeat that a lot, while you're riding in to work.



And nobody ever said it had to be BAD.  It's just one of those days.

Heh.  I'm glad you remember that story.  It will get published.  Someday.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Let me just state, for Luna's benefit, that One of those days is a neutral thing.  You could hit the lottery.  Or you could be killed in a freak scanner accident.  It's not BAD or GOOD, it's just that the WEIRD is WAY THE FUCK UP.

And as for LMNO, look around.  Tell me I'm wrong.

[Epimetheus]

I feel ya, Rev. This is one of those mornings where I had too many dreams and now I'm not so sure this isn't one. Add that to the fact that it's bound to rain today (Holy Weather) and I'm excited for what Eris gon' bring. Weigh anchor.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I feel ya, Rev. This is one of those mornings where I had too many dreams and now I'm not so sure this isn't one. Add that to the fact that it's bound to rain today (Holy Weather) and I'm excited for what Eris gon' bring. Weigh anchor.

As a drunken sailor once told me, "Anchors are for pussies".

And no hands on the helm.  That's cheating.

[Luna]

I am now on day three... four, maybe? of three hours of sleep or less a night.  I am likely to read the worst into anything. 

If I did win the lottery, I would be bitching because I would have to give NYEX half.  (Or not...  I am sure arrangements could be made.)

Bring on the weird.  I have a bet with myself that nothing can throw me more that last week's bombshell.