Stand Here And Watch The Forms Disappear.

I neglect my musings and my meanderings and I am quite certain there is detriment and consequence. Not necessarily for myself, but for posterity rather.

Having spent some considerable amount of time recently in my dear Idaho and its attending thrift stores and notions marts, where I managed to purchase amongst an absolutely stunning clutch of vintage Tupperware, a rather handsome volume of Pepys Diary. It is actually two volumes and quite massive. I also found a stunning secretary, an Edwardian side chair to go with one I had already purchased, an YvesSaintLaurent hand towel in the original Japanese boutique box of all things, but the point is people are ceasing to write things. They are certainly ceasing to write observational prose in a manner that doesn't involve a string of hashtags, memes or imoja. One day, this sad little diary of mine may be one of the few surviving records of life during these turbulent decades of the final utter and total consolidation of corporatist-military-industrial state hegemony, and what a feeble account it shall be if I go on neglecting it in this manner.

And to what end? Why just the other day while I was walking to my bus stop in Beverly Hills I was practically mauled, mauled I say, by a Welsh Corgi intent on protecting what remained of his human's soiled possessions. While I dashed to the side of the curb to avoid this snarling beast I came into clearing or rubbish where I could take in the entire vista of said human who was in that tender hour of 5:00 am completely stark raving nekkid on Robertson for everyone to see. Although there was no one, but the Corgi and me, and the Corgi seriously gave two fucks about his nekkid human.

There is actually a haunting encampment of cardboard, nylon and shopping bag structures nestled along the store fronts which I can't help but think is some type of quiet rebellion of some civil servant somewhere who is trying desperately to have some building project pushed through planning and zoning permissions, but goodness how I let my imagination wander if I let it.

And let it I shall. Or at least try to since I now have unfettered internets and free espresso beverages. The future needs this account of what happens when I go to work at unchristian hours.