Folded thought of the day: Discovering new ways to draw conclusions -- spilling our blood into broken vessels and painting reflective messages onto the backs of walls. Soiling the brick and mortar of a time well spent. Distancing ourselves from the fragmentary symbolism of abstract reality. The one they keep replaying. Over and over. A continuous reel, spinning its notoriety. Real-time gone the way of negligence. All the fad. And the lost tribe is hanging down at the five points. Got kicked off the strip. Picking up pointers from that wild-eyed believer. The one with the look of a lassoed horse. Coming to terms with this concrete treaty. A declaration of independents. Resting assured. Trapped in a token awareness. Passing the bottle and setting up camp. In for the night. With blankets donated by the ever-generous blink-of-an-eye ladies glee club. Checking their balances. And asking no questions about those small pox rumors going around. Laden in the attempt. With hearts in the right place. Settling the score and tucking themselves tight. Pulling that woolen comfort over their eyes. In for the night. And so it goes. All hoping for the rising of a sun. An enlightened presence. A-coming. But we've fallen before we could get up. We've stuttered our speech. There is nothing we will not do to keep from living our lives. The kid next door washed the streets clean. Violent tendencies gone to more constructive ends. Shock therapy. Stunted growth. Bewildered intelligentsia. Frugality and the big burden. Shouldered frustrations. Neglected direction. Plenty of wounds we're making up for these days. Nothing new. Wishing for a moment of absolution. Get into it. Better off for the intention. Get down and boogie. Go for broke. Mean well. Me? Mean? well... No, not the small well, and not the big well, but the mean well. Have you seen that new hole in the ground they just installed? That's no mean well. And so our Daily Editor goes drifting again...