Something crashed into me. Once mental equilibrium was restored, I raged, “What happened.” Looking around, I discovered that I’d been hit by Wednesday. Right in the middle of the week, too. Examining it in the mirror, I admired a developed welt and darkening contusion. Wednesday was leaving a mark. That’s how life goes for Day Hunters. Sometimes they strike back.
This is August 31, 2022, which happens to be September Eve. Naturally, I’m gonna dress up and party, as my tribe has done since they first illuminated recorded history.
Sunrise broke night’s grip on the valley at 6:35 AM. Night fled but vowed to return at 7:47 tonight. I admired his willingness to express such a specific time in this day of vague promises. It’s a lovely 21 C right now, but Purple Air says wildfire smoke from Rum Creek to the northwest and another blaze in California pours a blend into the air that makes it red, 148, and unhealthy for sensitive folks. That must include me. I’m zinging sneezes and coughs to beat the band (an expression that seems very confusing and leaves me wondering about its origins). Eyes are teary and the nostrils are smarting. So, I’ll take precautions, y’all, if I were me, which I think I am.
The Neurons have plucked a Stevie Wonder song out of the 1965 memory cells and loaded it into the morning mental music stream. I always loved the energy of “Uptight (Everything Is Alright)”. Knowing this, following a successful writing expedition which naturally also rendered me anxious (does this work or am I fooling myself?), The Neurons kicked the song on in a game effort to reassure me.
Over to you, Jim. Here’s the music. I’m setting off into the kitchen’s darkest corners in a quest to find a cup of hot, black coffee. Come at your own peril if you wish. Stay positive, test negy, and so on. Don’t look know, my fellow Americans, but Labor Day weekend is rising out of the calendar’s murky depths. Cheers