Most of the past week I have pretended to be an oyster. No, I haven't worn a bivalvular home-made shell-costume while wandering the streets of San Francisco, what I mean by that is that I have mostly stayed in when not involved in fiddling with pipes across the Golden Gate Bridge. Occasionally, I have blown bubbles and hummed to myself, as oysters are wont to do.
The week has been both busy and moist.
If you see something evil lurking beneath the surface of the water as you flap your wings across the slough, that will be me.
Best fly faster, I have harpoon.
Largely I have been ignoring the season. Other people's insane drang to spend their life's savings has little impact, and though I have not been there I imagine that the downtown is a seething madhouse.
I do most of my Christmas shopping in July.
Just thought you should know.
Can I gloat? Yes.
Yes I can.
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A LACK OF PROPELLANT
Rereading my old posts reminds me that I used to be immoderate. And at times over the top. I've calmed down and grown up since then. Now...
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