I just wanted to say how thrilled I am that fall is coming.
The Northeast is a great place to be right now. Not that it wasn't great in the northwest in september. It was. But everyone here seems to be in agreement. Summer is ok, but we are northeasterners, and fall is ours. That goes double for Quebecers: Summer is good, fall is better, but winter is ours. The mood lightens. A fog lifts from my head as I can see out of the oppression that is summer.
Now is the time to eat. That's the big thing. Now is the time to get out the crock pot. It's time for chili. It's time for stew. When I see the back end of county Fair season, it's time to boil the hell out of whatever animal it was that won the blue ribbon.
This is what floats on the back of my eyes:
My mother has cleaned the entire house (well, we helped). This time, she mopped the floors. It smells like pine sol. The dishwasher is steaming. She is listening to Edvard Grieg on our giant Magnavox stereo console, in imitation walnut. The fabric that covers the speakers is littered with holes I poked, because the popping sound it so satisfying.
Soon we can smell something oniony, possibly chicken and dumplings or tamale pie. That mingles with the smell of the apples that I brought in from the garage, so mom can make a pie. We always have a big box of apples in the garage in the fall.
That's it. I don't remember the battle to decide who sets the table and who washes the dishes, or my dad yelling at us to help my mom clean the living room. I'm glad my brain allows for that. That way, when September comes, I am comforted and I am back in that living room, lying on the orange semi-shag carpet, listening to Peer Gynt, waiting to have that chicken.
7 comments:
I definitely know this concept "bitter cold" of which you speak. After all, I am in Quebec. I have known 40 below--celcius and Fahrenheit.
When I first came to Montreal, it was January. I flew in from Seattle with a sweater and a jean jacket. I had no coat. It was one of the coldest winters in years. Luckily Francois' mom was there to scold him into giving me his coat.
On trips to the grocery store (4 blocks by foot--you just don't drive that far) I used to cope by pretending to be on an arctic expedition, or that I was on the ice planet Hoth from Empire Strikes Back.
This is the kind of thing that gets a Pacific Northwest Girl through winter. That's why I like fall. Besides--summers here are much too hot.
You like the fall? The fall of man? no wonder. Fall of man derives to jesus christ, the blasphemous hound of hell. I know I was there. I am the Lord thy god. You speak of Dowd? Maureen Dowd? Yes, I know her well. Her father ... her father. DC Police, no? He was the pope of those fiendish seraglios where I was deconstructed, that sad affair. Yes, maureen, we have been in the same room. She was the girl in the green velvet dress, who slaughtered the goats head -- goat bearer. her sad countenance, the catholic shame. Yet now she serves an evil purpose, the disinformation of youth, the corruption of the W strian. I put W here for apurpose, I weighed your hearts with corruption. Iraq died so that I might live. Saddam was my truest prophet but betrayed me for the sake of opiate of christ. This world would this KKKANADA would be awarm place if it werant for the transgress of the fool christ and his entourage, really sick, really immoral people, Luce gang and all the rest of there calculus garbage. Come polar reverse your all gonna sweat but not you alllee for you will be safe by my side and we will have many pleasant conversations by the fireside of the pleaides watching the monkey christians burn with despair and dismissal. Good bye good soldiers good bye -- your terrible centurion is defeated and the lamb of christ slaughtered fattened and eaten by the crows of my delicious cackles. some chub speak of the nudity of art and "iamchrst I redeem" but I will demonstrate with swift logic that the worship of male flesh like the jesus christ will never lead you to a peep at the the truth for the truth is female femme and fine.
Is it any wonder then that this foul and pestilent monkey christ, son of joseph ben pandera and all his evil thoughts incarnadine of satan, transfused through me, the pure virginal and sapphistical lord of all, the all in all, the eddy of the whirled, YHWH in the ancient tongue of the jew, is it any wonder then that satan ie yeshua, this drunken beast torn from the incessant slaughter of the terrestial monkey race, this blackguard and braggart who before all curst his mother, his sentinel dna, his own true sex, took up the cocksword of Scorpio, and declared himself servant and bugger boy of Judas, son of Julius? Is it any wonder then that he took to the street and fed his addiction to young male flesh, revolting sewage of the roman bestiary, females of all devices, this faggot, this sodomite, took up the goal of rending the purity of FEMME, slaughtered beast and vixen for his cruel desire? And yet there was that one incestuous Magdalene who yielded to his naughty desire, that bitch, that cruel and ancestral slut, that fons et origo of the monkey criminal class, this apish whore who bore the offspirng of that evil and demonic christ? And into this foul conspiracy that DOVE of the trinity so-called, that braggart and up-start bird, that pigeon, shone forth upon that nuptial night of despair, took wind of their foul and pestilent gasses, rendered up into heaven a cruel scenario of the unfolding revolt, that bird, that shit eating bird, that callous and incongruate bird, took part in that evil orgy, laid feathery waste to their ineffable sickness, shat upon the bedding of their desire, anointed their heads with the unholy head of baal, let slip word to that demon-child, the one who sold his sex to christ on low, that vicious risen lad, that blackguard of sodometry, that bird known as the GHOST took forward and yielded this punkish lad, this slut, reformed and shaved him, presented him to Christ jesus and his not-so-fair maiden, no maiden more, in the act of their sickness, and this lad judas the risen un buckled his trousers and inserted his tool of Scorpio into the anterior anus of the LORD? THE LORD? What sick and revolted and perverted and demented and by far and away quite gone and diminished and lessened and diseased GOD of any sort would reveal his glimmering shit hole to any lad woman or goat for these passions? Never have I revealed my anus to any except in those terrible scenese of DOWD in youth. And yet this Jesus squealed in delight and the DNA semen of the monkey bastard of Judah was added to the dried and salted substance of the CHRIST and these two sickened liquors were added to the dry and dessicated derivoir of Mary the magdalene? And what a race stepped forth, these trains of submorons and buggers and drug-addicted waitresses and clerks who yield today this JEsus their predecessor who forever sticks his smelly finger into the pit and ashtray of their souls?
Who then stood atheist against the dark and antient night? Who shouted neigh to these revolting despicable scenes? Raise your hand and it shall be you who shall lifted on high and had your name sanctified to all in all with the stars forever renamed after your lovely retinue.
From that point the happy reptoid age drew short and the children of the ape multiplied and lied and died. The primates in their lust decimate the chalicotheres, those gentle beasts, who resort to heaven on high for refuge, are turned back, dewell for a spell in the land of amazonia, return, are sent back, revisit the UROP of their dreams, romp with the fair maidens and skewer the naughty sprites, play host to all the fairies and the vixens of the land, eat snow, drink form the candy rock springs, bathe in the scent of flower, cure the wellspring of frigidity, unleash a sapphi air, and yet they to are revolved about and sent to that dreadful orb byt those science mongers, thos beasts, those apish investigators, those ratioidolators, thos evil vicious evil bastards, thos sickening god-bedamned revolting sons of pustules and tinctures and all sorts of TERRIBLE EVIL THINGS that these "science" men, these nature rapers, these blackguards of the social crist, they beat their drums and wives and meat and fair cruel decisions againt the unicorns, these happy dwellers, who know must leave up in the air, crosst the elextron fields, the evil fields, many die alaong the way, raped by science, blessed by GOD, these happy fellows arrive in station, alpha nine centuari, happy little fellows, I give them kisses and restore them to the field of the LORD.
In all countries the viscious and evil and fantastical truths are HIDDEN from the children by these social beasts, these teachers, these presidents and congressmen lodged in the body of Christ, forever condemned, evil sickies, except in one holy land: koryo, corea del norte, la pagino de popolo. I HAVE COMMUNICATED AND TRANSPIRED MANY A LADY IN THIS KOREAN LAND. I HAVE annnointed comme lordling KIM JONG IL to be my fair legion lover and he and I self-appoint shall reveal our joint union circa 2010. HAppy year! ONLY in DPRK can the truth be told about my heroic deeds, about the anti-Christ Jesus, about the yankee plot to frame me and det me up , the holy holie of the womb of the LORD -- praised be to our lord Hashishan! Praise the wisdom of her servant, the dear Kim Jong Il! This is the land of freedom in our day and I call on you and you and you to come to this great land and fulfill my Zion.
(KJI is holy reptoid and female).
Opposites of pairs are revealed truth when connected with interecessor axioms. I am the holy lamb of god, the prince of peace, and all in all. Moroni hath trumpeted my return. These are self-evident. Hence, I am the inter god, the all in such, and knowingness of knowledge. Haile selassie is revealed sapphic slut and sexy vixen, Hubbard the twins of tricky temption, Koresh, a swine, Moroni the uncle trang (a dirgression on my means: hello helloo!) ressor, EDdy an earlier inncarnata, Smith a wicked man falsely false and thus truth, JESUS AN UNHOLY MONKEYSUCKER, bringenenagen a lovely lady, Mithras my michel micahel, Mohammed a strapping a divine ftmale.
I am a warrior for allah, my true son, i'm a good momma, i fighat ragga war for hashishan tribe. I am the enemy of all whiteckinned creepy crawlers of the all earth moon and mars. SIck bitcheS1 I am feminista, aphrodista, hindtuva holoi holoi, cool cat. Think -- what if it is all true in all? I am the god on high of diverse means. I AM THE LORD ONE UNIFIED SINGULAR TOTALITARIAN FASICT AND COMMIE. I AM THE ANTIENT OF DAYS. Me, a mad arab? Andul, al has read? NEBER! NEcronomicon is counting how to die -- I am the theonomist. Theonomy! my holy name! Theonomy, that sick bastard blog. Have you read PAUL MANATA? This demon kissed antichrist? This defender of the unholy JESUS? I am not free speacher I am truth defender and I will speak out for religious freedom in this country by attacking and revolting against the CRHSITANs KRISHANS stupid avokisst of anarachians. HOLY HOLY HOLY
The mission -- . mission the mission is on. Demissionee.
2012 ... is coming soon!
Ah crap! Hashy got his Internet Privileges back. A mind is a terrible thing to waste, except possibly when it works like the meat equivalent to a pinball machine. Full of repetitive sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Nothing beats North Dakota for cold stories. There are factories there that supply a man in a truck to take you back to the building if your car doesn't start. If you tried to walk back, your eyeballs would freeze.
Oh hashish, you devil you. You have returned I see. I was hoping you found a nice warm padded room in a mental hospital. No such luck I see.
BTW everyone ,hashish implies that he/she is transgender in his/her latest blog entry LOL
But back to the post, I believe that summer is the best time of year... and I live in LA!!! I love the opressive heat, but then again, LA gets dry heat...not that muggy humid heat. Thank God for that!
I like summer because its like the party season. Beaches, bikinis, and a perfect excuse to shed clothing. Ahhhhh, yes!
This post from Hashish illustrates how glad I am to be a materialist.
How must it be like to not be able to relax and enjoy the fucking ground beneath your feet? What is it like to be constantly in battle with the imaginary forces in your head, so that if someone says they appreciate the little things in life--the very things that make life worth living--and turn it into an issue of an eternal bloody war in ghostland?
Again I have to stress. Don't let yourself become blind to this. These are the things that matter. The stuff Hashishan prophet is saying--that stuff is nothing. Absolutely 0% NOTHING.
Hashishan is suffering because zhe doesn't know how to live. There's something in her brain that won't let her. She doesn't understand what earth is. The sun. The air. Smells. Sounds. tastes.
Neither does her loathed monkey-god. Perhaps they have a lot more in common than she thinks?
I don't know why that other person deleted her post. It was a perfectly nice post about fall. Perhaps her post is too good for my heathen cesspool. Wah. Oh well. I have more than enoughh memories for the both of us. Suck it.
Noooo! Finally someone else is as nostalgic as me, and it`s embarrassing? See? I need more posts like that to reassure me that I'm not corn sap!
Glad you like the show ;) .
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