Home.
And not a moment too frelling soon, I might add. There's no point in going into all the gory details, all the 923 ways that a trip to Birmingham can suck, even when it's barely more than 24-hours long. But between my mother trying to turn me on to Jesus and the free-floating hostility that permeates the very aether in Birmingham, I am very, very, very glad to be back in Atlanta. Maybe this isn't where I want to be, in that oft-dreamt of ideal world, but it's better than where I was.
We drove back through a torrential downpour, and it was ten p.m. or so before we retrieved Sophie from Pets-Are-People-Too. We dropped her by home, fed her, listened patiently while she told us all about losing her catnip bat in a game of poker with a chihuahua named Lopez, and then Spooky and I grabbed a late dinner at The Vortex at L5P. The Ani DiFranco show at the Variety had just let out, and the place was marvelously awash in dykes. After all the Jesus nonsense, such wanton public displays of sin and sexual perversion are nothing if not sublime. Anyway, yes, I'm home.
And no sooner do I admit to my divine revelations and the founding of the Immacutale Order of the Falling Sky, than Comet Schwassmann-Wachmann-3 comes barreling around again. Sure, I was hoping for an asteroid, but a fragmented comet would certainly get the show started. And, yeah, it presently looks as though its closest to Earth will be 7.3 million miles on the morning of May 12th, but this is the twelfth closest approach of a comet to Earth in recorded history (I assume we're not counting Tunguska). What a windfall! Now we only need to martial the requisite psychokinetic energy to nudge those 40 or so fragments a little more earthward. And, even if we fail this time, as all faithful members of the Immaculate Order will tell you (if you ask), a near miss is the next best thing to doomsday. Just keep watching the skies, kiddos, and keep your fingers crossed...
We drove back through a torrential downpour, and it was ten p.m. or so before we retrieved Sophie from Pets-Are-People-Too. We dropped her by home, fed her, listened patiently while she told us all about losing her catnip bat in a game of poker with a chihuahua named Lopez, and then Spooky and I grabbed a late dinner at The Vortex at L5P. The Ani DiFranco show at the Variety had just let out, and the place was marvelously awash in dykes. After all the Jesus nonsense, such wanton public displays of sin and sexual perversion are nothing if not sublime. Anyway, yes, I'm home.
And no sooner do I admit to my divine revelations and the founding of the Immacutale Order of the Falling Sky, than Comet Schwassmann-Wachmann-3 comes barreling around again. Sure, I was hoping for an asteroid, but a fragmented comet would certainly get the show started. And, yeah, it presently looks as though its closest to Earth will be 7.3 million miles on the morning of May 12th, but this is the twelfth closest approach of a comet to Earth in recorded history (I assume we're not counting Tunguska). What a windfall! Now we only need to martial the requisite psychokinetic energy to nudge those 40 or so fragments a little more earthward. And, even if we fail this time, as all faithful members of the Immaculate Order will tell you (if you ask), a near miss is the next best thing to doomsday. Just keep watching the skies, kiddos, and keep your fingers crossed...