Three months later from the Blue Grass and shadows of vampire fangs hide among letters and stacks of postage flaps and franking stamps. Red Cross calling with a note about the taste test.
Passing the pint around, the score card presents the bleeding score from a meeting with a needle and draining tube moons in the past. Minutes go on for about 10 or so, the arm leaking into a satchel as a woman across the way pumps out plasma into a centrifuge.
Plasma, haemoglobin and all that iron punching flavour pumping through the heart coming back to read on the card: Coursing rich in O. Positively so.
Friday, 30 November 2007
Riding the friendly skies two days into the future no less an exaggeration of terms. And to wit with zippers and clothes and socks in holes staying for a luxurious mystery stay in San Francisco.
One day for the tan, two days for the atmosphere to seep in. World weary by the end of the first leg and already a veteran on the return hop. Scratch it up for foreigners and losers of baggage.
Too much trouble to catch up with a cripple cascading legs along giving travelators. Choosing instead to venture into cargo territory of the lost and found and generally unsound. No journey too long without an extra stop over in between. Waiting for the call only to hear the rustle of metal planks shove a carousel.
And round and round the baggage goes. When it arrives, only Menzies knows.
Score one for in the rush with combinations useless, unlocking latches on barrels.
Welcome back.
Two days late.
Friday, 30 November 2007
On the concrete soil of the big brown land once again. Catching horse flies in the eyes with the smell of summer spiking beads from the forehead down the side of the face. Three moons among blue grass and a jig up to lock down the loot to fly over the friendly skies again. Quick smart no less.
Thick buzzing swats of jelly belly bean black flies. Chewing out sounds from the air as the drop into the inverted bottle hooks up a sweet trap. Bugs to buzz drowning in water soon murky from their own involvement.
No point in unravelling beyond essentials. One two before the third of it free into the return fare. Coming back home in the wrong direction.
Subscriptions, magazines and letters of notice in mounds of envelopes and registrations to rifle. Months past due, weeks beyond redemption and all over the place. No space on the black and plastic covering up the four legs with a sloop. Clear it out with the read and rinse. Three months is only just a half. And a five on the stack.
Templates ready up for the next shuffle. Plans on execution, the test to rest on.
Tuesday, 27 November 2007
Elemunk scrambles the loose connections bouncing about the mind of Soon Van.
Feel free to ask questions on any topic. Or spend some quality killswitch time poking about reading the vintage synapses
Or maybe a torrid trail of job interviews?
Elementary Funk by Soon Van is licensed under a Creative Commons License. Feel free to read up on the scope of the copyright over the posts and photos.
Creativity starves insanity