discordian and I, unfortunately, don't get to talk as much as we used to. Schedules and such are just that way, I suppose, but it still sucks...however, it's good to see some things never change. He calls me up today, out of the blue, in the middle of some fabulous lunch he's having somewhere out there in New York, simply to ask me a question about some obscure subject. I can totally visualize it: there he is, seated at the lunch table, just nearing the end of his venison cutlet in raspberry sauce (yes, that is what he was eating...yummers!), talking with other bigwig muckety-mucks, when something comes up that no one seems to know. In normal circles, the group would think about it for a few minutes, and then give up and move on...but no, not here. Issac simply tells the group that he'll have the answer in minutes, whips out his cell phone, and dials the number to the 24-hour Encyclopaedia Chaotica...and gets his answer. Makes me look good, makes HIM look good...what more could you ask for? LMAO...love ya, bro'.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You know it's gonna be a good day when you wake up and realize that it's time to pull the leather jacket out of the closet again. I admit it, I'm in total love with my leather jacket; my leather trenchcoat is a close second, but nothing beats my cycle jacket. Every year, when the time comes and it comes back into regular usage, that first time of wearing it is always something to be savored: you just hold it for a moment, feeling that leather against your skin, so familiar, almost alive...let the smell hit your nostrils and inhale deeply, the memories flooding your thoughts...the light hits the zipper, chains, and accoutrements, sending gleaming diamond shards into the mind's eye...the weight of it in your hands is like the weight of a thousand tales...sliding your arms into it is like applying a second skin, like it belongs there and nowhere else...the creak of the leather gives your every movement extra gravity, extra meaning...
...*happy sigh* I love my leather jacket.