The lesbians were sitting out on their front porch, discussing the hermit who was fleeing the neighbourhood, even after the successful neighbourood garden party. Who is he? What does he mean? I found a flier for the garden party - it had blown off my door into the yard, apparently. So, I guess I had been invited, which is irrelevant. I was ill. Except, the Commie Neighbour guy is probably slightly angry at me, in his self-righteous way. Little did he know.
That's what humans do the best. They blame the weather on each other. They take natural phenomena, and personalise it, affix it to some victim, and then attack, or ignore, or gossip. It could be a virus, or phase of the moon, or a mere coincidence, and the humans just get riled at each other, and wars happen. Solar activity increases, ergo, mankind exterminates itself. Silly. We're like those iron shavings on a piece of paper, moved about by a magnet hidden underneath, polarising, drawing our lines of force. Marching in files. All falling down again.
My brain has been so whack. When will it end? I keep having to put off important, (so-called), days. My relatives see me in action, on "good days", having a hard time of it, and think my illess is bad. They don't see the week of relapse that follows, which is far worse than any "bad" they can imagine. It's nuts. I forget what else I was going to say. Just want a few days of accomplishing something. So tired. No room for ego. Barely room for weather. If I sat out on the recyclables, would tey take me away? Would they turn me into something better? Or would I float adrift in the middle of the Pacific, adding to the general distemper?
You know why liberals in Chicago are convinced that the right to carry guns can never work? Because everyone in Chicago is messed up. It's Chicago.