Friday, May 13, 2005
Don't Lose That Numba
Lunched in downtown Tres Leches with the Nome King and his guest, the lovely KDM. We sat midst the ghosts of Studebakers, baby nomes, and rolling thunder. We were, he said, at the center of creative civilization, dreaming the dream of dreamers. It may have just been the carrot cake talking. That and the IBC.
Up walks the Emperor Nome, vouches for his vassal – as if he needed vouching. Two more sprung from the Granada epi-center.
From the CofCC, I wandered outriver to the Enchilada: Rumer Godden is calling, scrambling the signals of Vidiadhar. Will the Dark Horse win, or will we stay with Rana in Pakistan? On the 14 down, I imagined Rana in Tres Leches: Yemaya’s darker sister was on the bus, as was a silver ankle bracelet listening to England talking. She was in love, charmingly bucktoothed, goldenstout: black tee said the Queen is Dead. Did England know? I didn’t.
MauMauChaplain riddims. 96 tears, you’re gonna cry, cry cry cry now. The mind waffles, crinkles, we are one: ?, Moe, Zimm, and sister Joni.
From the enchilada, north: 8-ward to Thomas Pynchon Elementary. Benny Profane, disciplinarian; Tyrone Slothrop, Implementarian. Mi-Q is sad on the baking tundra: his times did not suit the Speedy Gonzalez of the Playground Set. Crystal’s encouragement was to no avail: only ice cream could cure this heartbreak, so we 8 our way to the D-Sham: push-up and Barq’s elixir. We crossed the Baby Faux Silicon Byway and 14ed our way to Seven Oaks and home.
Along the way, natch, 4 rounds of Wilbert or Mi-Q: kicking rocks into storm sewers: you miss the last, you are Wilbert for life. I assure Q that I couldn’t possibly live with a Wilbert son in the house: he would have to sleep in the back yard. Sez he: “but, there would be wolves.” I did not know that wolves were still roaming the outskirts of Tres Leches. He assures me they are. Thankfully, his accuracy saves me from a Wilbert-son and him from the wolves.
Last night at Hole Fooms, ever the nose-Q isolating yet another offending effluvia: “That smells like burning brontosaurus burger.”
Rana: Welcome to Tres Leches.
