Ruminant Mammals Rising from the Dead by Notty Bumbo, 2014 Up too early again. Jerry singing Broke Down Palace, the tea barely helping. I entertain odd thoughts, scratch my beard, no signs yet of dawn. There is one bright star poking through the thin fog, and I wonder who is looking back, their own tea growing cold, their Jerry singing Box of Methane Rain, and I begin to see the potential here for infinite regress. It is difficult to dismiss the irony of the living being sung to by the Dead, when we cant seem to get the living to sing to each other without some pointless debate on profitability, or some tiresome argument about whos more outraging the sensibilities of some moralistic crusaders pretending to defend children from their inevitable future selves. Belief is the least-acknowledged disease of us homo-saps. And that star is going to fade from my sight soon, but will my counterpart on Alpha Centauri Prime see a similar fadeout? You see how it goes - dreams will find their way to full expression, regardless of any caffeine-fueled shield wall. Well, its never too early for a walk. If I get home before daylight, just might get some sleep tonight....
Posted on: Sat, 20 Sep 2014 16:09:57 +0000