Shizzing and Shazzing

Next to me, to my right, on an ever growing pile of discarded paper, is a box elder and a beetle. They're walking in head-spinning circles around each other beneath the light, wiggling their wiggly things furiously. I sort of wonder what they think of each other . . . whether they're sizing each other up, or just lame to the fact that they're inches apart. Sort of like people. Either dumb or oblivious. Or maybe they just don't care. Or maybe they like each other.

If they mated . . . would they make little BEELDERS or BOXTEELS?

The beetle is lazy. Boxy probably gives him a complex, what with being so much brighter and bigger and alien and all. But Boxy seems like he's high on speed and he if walks in one more circle I think I might get a headache from watching. He's baiting me. Or maybe the beetle.

You know if I smooshed the beetle, it'd leave a orange stain. I wonder if Boxy would find that interesting.

They both seem to like my pile of quarters. And the cutty-things quite a bit. I'm really glad I'm not an insect. If I ever thought my life was boring. But seriously. It's weird. Whatever it is they're doing.

So that's it. I took the kids to see a doggie movie that I shall not name — mostly because I found it entertaining — and came home a stared at bugs, while they (the kids) ran round me shizzing and shooting. And then I thought of you, and how we barked at your voice, and I wondered if you ever still read this. I don't write. Because I don't usually have much amusing to say. But I wish I did.

Then I talked sternly to the children because . . . well, it's a long story. And now, even though we had a very nice night, one of them thinks I'm mean.

Whatever. Now that the kids are in bed, let's just say I'll be shizzing my own way through the internet. Bet you wish you were here with me.

ODE O' Day — To the Scorpions. They remind me: There's no one like you. And I'm still loving you. And I imagine the things you do (under big city lights on the wings of a dove). And I just want to be loved by you. In all sorts of ways, baby.