SIGN OF THE TIMES

Years ago, based on their careful algorithmic evaluation of my buying habits and patterns, it became clear that Amazon.com had concluded that I was a gay Englishwoman.  


Just as our U.S. intelligence services, armed with all the information sin’s wages might purchase and demon ingenuity might extrapolate,  couldn’t prevent Major Hasan’s murders at Fort Hood or Boston’s Tsarnaev Massacre, “better living through chemistry” schemes don't always pan out.


Very early today, I was reposing over this keyboard and screen in tropical, pre-coffee darkness looking north, seeking language, when Amazon decided that the exact thing for me today was a new copy of Fantomas – The Corpse That Kills.


This time they’re absolutely correct.

How on earth did they know?


Fantomas has been following me around for at least 35 years. 


Last week at home, he seemed to catch up with me.


It’s endgame time now.    


But I am a Duppy Conqueror and a Desperate Character.
 

He doesn't stand a chance against me.


Bryan Ferry: Sign Of The Times (Link)

HAIKU REDUX

We’re chippin’ at the moon with an old bone.

Issa and his sister chip until the moon is gone.

An endless row of wagons in the snow,

Issa grabs his sister says "c’mon let’s go ‘cause --

Yeah, I think I’ll write a haiku.

Well, you know as well as I do,

You gotta, gotta have a high IQ.

So eat this and have a cup of tea."

Widow lighting lamps at cock crow.

Sengai stamps to help his blood flow.

From his brush figures rush,

In the middle sits a poet

Almost smothered, almost crushed, crying --

"Yeah, I think I'll write a haiku...

Well, you know as well as I do,

You gotta, gotta have a high IQ.

So eat this and have a cup of tea."

(Systole, diastole

Dealing with the parts but

Feeling with the whole.)

Yo!

Han Shan's tears, small worlds.

Resting on their spears, The warlords.

In the wood a drop of blood

Hits an inky pond which ripples as it should...

So why don't you, don't you write a haiku?

Well, you know as well as I do,

All you need is a very high IQ.

NOTE:  I really didn’t expect to find myself here, but who ever does? 

Stirring up the tea from the bottom.  Higgs Boson hoping.  Seeking suspension.

Forgetting forgetting.  Sludge, torpor.  The Local Martinet and Harpy Front.

Remembering tomorrow’s to-do list.  

First entry: “Forget it.”  

Slapp Happy: Haiku (Link)   

The Kinks: I'll Remember (Link)