Folded Thought of the Day:


Watch out for falling debris.  Seems more and more things are falling 
out of the sky.  Turning the entire world into a big hard-hat area.  
See our fine feathered friends heading south and winter's still many 
months away.  Bet they know something we don't.  Being in touch with 
those higher forces.  Never trusted them to begin with.  With those 
pointy beaks and that malevolent look in their eyes.  Good riddance.

I'm making the rounds.  Taking liberties and filling my basket with 
melancholic reminders of our imminent decline.  Drifting along the 
valley streams and the ghost town railroad lines, dropping in the 
odd vacant diner for a cup of mud and a bit of conversation -- holding 
up my end of the bargain.  Slipping into town and keeping to the 
back roads, sustaining a low, bearded profile -- gotta keep those 
demons on their toes, and when your paths do meet you want to be 
on equal ground...can't have them getting the drop on you.  

Dropping by the ol' pawn shop, to hawk a few of my findings and 
see about re-claiming a bit of the past.  Young and stupid.  
Thinking I could let it all go if I got rid of it.  Nope.  Best 
to keep things close...the scarier they are the closer and more 
carefully they should be kept -- wrapped in velvet and tucked 
into your breast pocket.  Never know when one of those momentos 
is gonna block a bullet for you.  That's what bad memories do...
they save your life when danger comes calling.

Feeling pretty good about things.  Soundtracks playing your part.  
Motoring through the moments of your life.  Feeling a dizzy giddiness 
as the signs flash by.  Frames shot in hazy distance.  Fog-covered 
lenses adding a little mystery and romance to the scene.  Exploring 
the gray area that holds no interesting insight.  Still, you take 
the time to fish at empty ponds.  Just in case.  Comforted by vague 
nothingness.  

Matters of noble endeavor are building a home of their own.  Carving 
out a little space in the vicinity of daily matters.  Close enough 
to have a vote in the local election.  Your basic grass roots effort 
at affecting policy.  A matter of high controversy among the townsfolk, 
countering with a concerted effort to bring all noble gestures to their 
collective knees.  

Can you see the devil loitering in the detailed backdrop of our 
masquerade ball?  Whose idea was it to hide our identities, anyway?  
Well, I guess that's a fairly easy one.  But don't be so sure.  
Either way, it sure makes you think twice about that dance partner 
you picked...why they've made so many trips to the punch bowl and 
just who they came with.

Losing touch with whatever brought you to this shore.  Indulging 
in tired allegiances.  Idle achievements.  Roots of evil.  The 
gathering of pointless objects.  Symbolic trysts with immortality. 
Paper beliefs...taken at face value.  Strength in numbers.  

But the safety council is taking stock of certain known tendencies 
that govern our responsible behavior.  Stolen embraces all duly 
noted.  Sudden recuperations falling under the watchful eye.  Nobody 
was going to let those slide.  A mere indulgence perhaps, but all 
the riff-raff has to be cleared out before the evening crowd arrives.  

Taking solace in my solitude.  Dropping everything.  Letting it 
all crash to the ground is a mad cacophony.  And then nothing.  
Watching intently as all the turned heads slowly turn back...taking 
their faces with them.


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