Celebrated data security week by taking my computer to lunch, sat near the server at the counter, better receptivity. Ordered from a pull-down menu, the monkey wants to speak. Pink noodles at the gym, ebola in Liberia. Coffee and pastry, please.
Facebook friends swap out profile pictures. At least change my background. Last Monday passwords went up for auction, the highest bidder watched characters spread out in dioramas from head to Tokyo, a breach. There’s still no birth. I’d like to think the wrapping paper was green, green like Lorca’s poems.
On Buying a New Food Processor
Old Nelly broke down after thirty years of dedicated service. Motor stopped dead. Had a life-time guarantee. That’s over with. Couldn’t bring myself to toss it. Buried the blades with the bowl in the backyard. No more hummus. In the evening, heard tomato plants and earthworms being whipped into paste. Went outside and saw a spiral swallowing sparrows. Bought a new one on sale. At the kitchen table, the processor stands unassembled. Does yours still work?
Bye-bye Fried Chicken
Salmon rolls at the supermarket’s sushi counter, a gift of pressure by relocated employees from Denver who want more variety than fried chicken. Last night heard Brando on TV scream Stel-la! The watchman on the wide screen tells me about soldier suicides. Or guesses how many people can fit on the head of one mountain top without being rescued. Words cut loose, data sets aside, still wobbling on all four legs xoxoxoxoxo