THE KINGDOM OF CHAGAS

Yesterday someone whose eye and judgement I value complimented me on my foggy paintings. Which is a bit of a 'kick' I've been on, off and on, for a while now. After all I live in San Francisco (famous for fog), and spent my youth in the Kempen region of North Brabant, which is also a foggy place. Fog is it. And in Summer, fog is cool. Yesterday evening while cleaning up outside I realized that it was considerably warmer than it should have been. Which I couldn't feel very well, but it made me intensely uncomfortable while I worked. Circulatory issues. Especially in the lower extremeties. My legs were angry.

From Facebook comes the reminder that in the South, evenings at this time of year are a slice of hell. Too hot. Too humid. Too many mosquitoes. Bugs. Nightmarish sleeping circumstances. Grits get everywhere. That ever-present ice-tea. Diabetes.
Plus kissing bugs (triatominae), commonly kept as pets.

Yes thank you, if you live there, do not expect a visit from me anytime soon.
Or even ever, actually. That ice-tea sounds rather unhealthy.
Don't need any Dapper Dan Hair Cream.

I am a fastidious man. Consequently I shall leave everything south of the civilized world to Jay Dot Dee and his trad wife. They stay out of our world, we won't comment on their peculiar lifestyle. Okay?

And please cut out that infernal banjo music.

The deer, the elk, the alligators and pythons, two toed carnivores and moon-eyed people. Skinned Tom, people living under the floor boars, and entire families with syphilis.

And, to cap it off, oh horrors, the State of Texas.
They've got grits there too.
It's a plague.



Grits. Everywhere.
The evil.



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