Friday, June 29, 2018
The fireworks tents are up. We will here the little poppers all about the neighborhoods soon. We used to get these little firecrackers called "Lady Fingers" when I was a kid. They were smaller than the regular firecrackers. You couldn't buy them here in our state, but people would go to Georgia or North Carolina and come back with them. We used to prove our manhood by holding the Lady Fingers between our fingers and letting them explode. The key was to squeeze as hard as you could. If you didn't squeeze hard enough, the skin on your fingers would split open. That's the kind of macho fun little cracker redneck kids have in the Sunny South. One kind, anyway.
No wonder I have never really enjoyed the 4th.
But I loved this circus looking tent. I wish there were still tent circuses around. I tried hooking up with a Mexican circus once. I wrote to them, but I never got a response. I'd probably have to go to Eastern Europe or Asia to find what I am looking for now, and I'd probably have a hard time even finding them there.
I'll bet there aren't even any headhunters any more.
Last night was the Strawberry Moon. I slept through it. I have lost touch with the natural world. Even my sleep was not natural, fueled as it was by Advil P.M. gel capsules. The gel caps are the ones to get. They will surely be illegal soon.
A cow on a roof. Indeed, it is a T.C. Boyle world. There is nature and there is human nature, and they are constantly at odds. I think I'll take a walk.
Posted by cafe selavy at 9:56 AM