(M)academia

Up to late. Made carrot butter and smoked salmon ravioli with a dill cream sauce for people I would have rather not spent time with. Going to the store? Here, take my credit card. This was Liz. Take it and get some macadamia nuts. That would be great. No, no. We got it. As long as we can use some carrots and maybe a pepper. We got it. Then later. We only had enough to get this stuff for you. We just wanted to get a few things for the week. But you wanted this food. Thank god for Dillon. Liz had to soak them in a little longer. On the porch. Sucking up cancer. Cigarettes are like food. Food and car accidents. They bring people together so they stand or sit around in unlikely groups. Gawk. Complain. I can ignore anything with enough whiskey. For the record, Ummagumma is a decent record. I think Careful with that Axe Eugene is on it. Hell of a track. I'll take Diamanda's banshee-in-heat screech and gurgle over Louis' scatting any day. Music is not worth arguing about. Liz is still asleep in bed. I wish I was. Not asleep. Just with her. I miss talking about James Joyce and Ezra Pound. Even if they turn people into pretentious weasels. Dry casques of departed locusts.