Haunted: Camel Cricket

This sucker woke me up the other night in the middle of a dream. The thing is, I think he was crawling around on me, and it appeared as though he was about a foot long. I freaked out and started trying to brush him off my chest, but I was so discombobulated that I wasn't sure if I was dreaming it or if it was real. I found the bug the next day in my laundry basket so I can only assume it was a real thing. Funny how dreams can blow things out of proportion like that. However, last night we discovered a huge brown spider crawling around the canary castle, which leads me to believe it might have been a spider crawling on me the other night. Either way, it was creepy. My dreams have always plagued me, but it takes something weird like this to make you realize how much reality can be distorted just with your unabated unconscious mind.

We are going to DC this weekend, and it will be a first for me. It will be nice to go just for a couple days, even though I doubt I'll get to see much of anything good. However, we will be playing some ComedySportz stuff, including a "Blue" Show on Saturday night. Callie and Zach and his lady, Kate Mellilo are going, so it should be a fun wekend long double date. I will let everyone know how it goes when I get back. Watch out for spiders and crickets.

Blind making fun of the Blind

-The president ribbed a reporter for wearing sunglasses during a press conference. He asked what was "with the shades" then noted that there was "no sun out," to those watching from home. The reporter responded with, "I guess its a matter of perspective." The crowd laughed and the president did, too. Then he said, "touche." It turns out that the reporter was legally blind. A matter of perspective indeed.
- Bill Gates left Microsoft today. Did he retire?
-The canes lost last night, but the shot they lost by was gorgeous.
-Callie and I are going to go outside.
-Sideways the Cat is a tornado in siamese fur.
-We made some awesome chicken, rice, and artichoke tonight. It was sooo fuckin' good, I died.


X
X P

Armitage

I.
The pigeons dropped
and shuffled down
to the street below,
brushing glass
from their wings.

I thought I might rust
out in the weather—
in the rain of splinters,
with winter my cast,
and smoke my umbrella.

And under the city,
my eyes mistook
smiles for teeth.

We measured distance in days.

I wanted to write you
letters stapled to polaroids--
something for your fireplace.