One Why and Half a Wherefore in Adjunct to 8/9/2013 flash friday; a trinity of flashs

I’ve made promises, well, more like implications, that I would do creative things. Most pertinent to this little back-forty of the overt web (as opposed to the gray sub web) is a promise for flash October. The other; the anarchist showed up at my front door, we had an adventure or two, he wants to do some sort of project or the other. I’m not being evasive or coy, the nature of the project is as yet undefined.

I’m awfully prosaic these days. Yes, I’m of the mind that any idiot can do things when said idiot is inspired, that’d be me, it takes a force of will, determination and dedication to do it when the cerebral soup is rag water and green rye. So, yeah, I’ve forced ideas, not hard enough to commit them to paper, but roughed them out in my head. Silliness, rank silliness. My default is silly.

Just the same I will try. Flash October in the good old days, or bad old days depending on which side of them one is on, was a month of flashes. I’ve never been self conscious of how silly those may or may not of been. It’s a numbers game. You might have heard that expression before, you might not have, you might have heard it and dismissed it. Usually someone utters those words with emphasis on everything. What it means, my apologies, is the more attempts you make the likelier you are to hit. If the odds suck, like 100 to one, more attempts don’t improve the odds, just the likelihood of hitting that one. The phrase is often used in Sales and Dating. In sales income is the outcome, in dating, shit, I don’t know. It can’t really just involve sex, maybe it’s just me but the odds are pretty good to get laid. As jaded as a dater who thinks inter-personal relationships are a numbers game might be, I think sex is a hurdle, a symptom, to the greater goal.

But, how the fuck would I know? I have never used the phrase ‘It’s a numbers game’ with any sincerity regarding anything, even suduku, it was a pun and one I regret. In sales it seems over-stating the obvious. Whether you are keeping score or not why would anyone not collect the numbers? I suppose if you were training someone who neither knew how to close nor could pace themselves ‘It’s a numbers game’ might mean ‘hurry your shit up’.

Again, how the fuck would I know?

The whole knee issue I had a few weeks back has resolved through exercise and biting. Ok, biting is more of euphemism having something to do with metaphorical bullets. Bullit makes a rye, it’s a good rye, with a bit of simple simple syrup, bitters and ice shaken and stirred and poured into a rock glass lightly coated in absinthe you have the perfect Sazerac. It’s a drink from the late 19th century. Rye became scarce a few decades back; it’s making a comeback. Absinthe was illegal in the states for several decades. Sazerac recipes suggest using pernod or any anise flavored whatsamagigger.

I spent a few days of the last week reorganizing my clutter. I imagined a tarp with prepainted clutter that I could just toss over and tie down. I think it would sell well. Like Jerusalem one could build new clutter over the ruins of the last clutter. I recommend cathedral ceilings.

Ok, be nice to one another. I’m spent.