Now I’m even back at work. That’s it, the summer of music is over, as is my holiday.
Next up: SEMINAR OF DEATH followed by parties.
Where they don’t serve food, but small open sandwiches with fancy names.
It’s drawing near to the end now, the end of the summer in its entirety, and with it comes that age of man that is dark and gloomy and kind of thin around the ankles. Autumn’s what I’m talking about. And you can feel it in nature too. It’s coming. The bumblebee that’s having a hell of a time flying past the monitors and into the window knows it. He occasionally gets out through the open window only to return again and continue the routine. It’s a buddhist bumblebee indeed and what else makes a bumblebee but its deeds? There’s a fine line between fishing and standing on the shore like a fucking idiot.
The trees know it too, but they’re too arrogant to care. The leaves are still neon green, but you can see that they know. The creepers however, they know it like the inside of somebody’s pocket. They’re withering, true, but before that they’ll turn blood red as if a giant in that time of month had had a little accident all over the building. A lot of people like autumn. Well I do too, I just don’t like them.
The squirrels in the yard, well… Actually it looks like they’re building some sort of missile-like structure. Seems like a primitive cargo cult in the advanced stage. Someone’s been showing them too much NASA television dammit, and now they’re all going to Mars! And I? I’m headed for lunch.