Monday, May 04, 2009

A' Roving

Here, a picture of the author content, resplendant in taffeta robe and slippers, happy to be home.

Here, a picture of Santos, the trail that saved the author from madness and despair while on the road. The bike felt unknown to me. I was a happily oblivious wooden toy-creaking and clacking on wooden joints imitating the fleshed riders I saw streaming through the green.

And here is a picture of rain, which is brewing outside this morning in Tallahassee, FL- land of my gods and my monsters. S'quatch is away on cult-related business. Wrecking Ball is further wrecked. The realm is in tatters, and still we fight on.

Squire! My broom! My bucket! To war!



WheelDancer said...

I'm assuming your squire will be bringing your bike as well. Going to war without a bicycle would be like a fish without a sidearm.

Anonymous said...

my thumb pointed toward my ear, my pinky toward my mouth and I'm shaking my hand in the usual sign that means:
Call me

juancho said...

what? your phone don't dial out? OK, I'll call you.

WD- squire BEST be bringing my bike!

Human Wrecking Ball said...

To arms!....and necks!

Anonymous said...

dude, I was being facetious; don't ACTUALLY call me, yeeesh.
oH, I see a message on my voicemail, you didn' bucket's not full yet.