Ernie Bushmiller-Sluggo's Prouncement (American 1930's?)
Anyhow it's true. They begin there in the rectitude of our adjustments, when the lighted world is at bay and a second moves in and surrogates our failed attempts at joy.
I made chili this morning. It's just the usual stuff, except between the green bells, cubanellas, and jalapenos, I fit a palmful of dried arbols. They're the wee fire ants of the the chili world: Mean, stoic and mesmerizing, leaving paisleys the color of oxidized blood in the wake of otherwise clear space and then upon purple arterial shadows--they provoke hallucinations unattainable by chemical means.
At the risk of appearing forward I am throwing open the door to the (non-pussy) world. It is fantastic. I will tell you about the light, and will probably bake up some honey cornbread to go along with the chili. 4516 Liberty Avenue, Pittsburgh, PA.
Wrestling and neighbor-startling antics to follow.
2 comments:
Um? Yes? What?
Okay, I'll take your questions in the order in which they were posed.
Um?
Yes.
Yes?
Yes indeed!
What?
Well, now that's where it gets complicated. On the surface it's a simple, if puzzling, announcement that, a. I made chili, and b. I am issuing an open invitation to anyone who would like a bowl. There was also some mention of cornbread--it never materialized.
I think the confusion stems from the strangeness, the need, for example, to sweeten the deal with revelations on the nature of love and "the light". Who can say what that means. Frankly I was hoping each reader would take something unique, and ideally, hopeful from it--as if to say, I didn't expect to find that kind of thing here, but who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I could also see the point implicit across your three questions. Truthfully, I'm not sure what it's supposed to mean either. I merely stood back from it after I finished--while the pot was still warming on he stove, and said to myself, against all indications of unreason, I'll keep this one.
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