She's A Tear That Hangs Inside My Soul Forever

I walked to my window in the grey gloaming and my eyes were drawn to the rivulets of rain as they meandered slowly downward. Everything lost...everything gone. Anna Nicole.

The inexorable tug of time wearies my every sinew. The days stretch like a million sentences of death and I strain to bear even the very first. Anna Nicole.

I remember a time when we were young and ferocious, Anna Nicole and I, two feral lovers pitted against a hostile world. I try to stem the flow of brutal, stinging memories. The long nights at Joe's Bar in Prague, those endless, paragorical, velvet summer reveries. And I remember even to the day we met, when I offered her my seat on the Red Line in Rue de France, intoxicated by her subtle ballet, her studied little-girl aloofness.

Yes, giants walked in those days. Giants ate the world in great gulps of red and white and green. Swarming human pestilences advanced across the globe in arcing, malevolent clouds and we stood the best we could, all of us. We stood and gave as good as we got and it was a good time and a dangerous time to be alive but we had our love. And I had my Anna Nicole. Many of us have fallen and I raise my goblin, bejeweled and sweating, to all of them, God knows. All of them.

But I, I shall never sleep again. I shall never laugh again. And were I to retrace our steps in my memory, through the tiny streets of Belhorizonte or across the town square in Leipzig where Fiodor took that rain of bullets for us in '54, surely I will weep and never stop. Berlin, London, La Plata, Reykjavik. Palos Verdes. Tegucigalpa. Istanbul. So many places I can never again
see lest the grief of losing Anna Nicole should overcome me and kill me as sure as any slow, fatal consumption.

Buddy Attacks!

Yeah I had to pick something up at Gary Rome Hyundai in Holyoke a couple of days ago. This is one of those dealerships where they have th' cute mascot dog in all the ads. In this case it's an adorable, feisty li'l terrier named Buddy.

Buddy! He's pretty much famous! I never actually saw him there before and thought that maybe it was all a lie, a fabrication to lure th' unsuspecting lover of feists to test drive some shitebox.

But no- there he was, in the showroom window. Buddy! I'm all like I'm going to meet Buddy! He was looking out the window at me and wagging his famous little tail!

So into the showroom I go with my five quarts of fluid! To meet Buddy! Everybody knows how much I like dogs!

Goddamn if I didn't barely have time to put down my five quarts before that little fuck snarls and shows teeth! And I'm thinking it can't be! Not Buddy! Buddy can't be a prick! And I collect my stuff and start to take my leave when the little cock leaps on me and sinks his fucking teeth into my coat! Snarling! Snarling and generally losing his shit!

And the salespeople all come running and I'm spinning 'round trying to get the little bastard to release his deathgrip and laughing my ass off! And when at length Buddy relinquishes my coat he keeps a not-insignificant part as a souvenir. I couldn't believe it! And of course they're all like are you O.K. please don't sue us and what they don't realize is that I'm Bobby Lightfoot and their cruddy lucre is like so much bloodmoney to me. Fishwrap. Kindling.

What a dick that dog turned out to be. It was awesome.