Friday, January 29, 2010


Sometimes, when I'm falling asleep, something odd will abruptly enter my transulscent neon outline form, and linger there, until I realise it.
I'll capture it and think--funny...why?

So,as I sunk into my couch yesterday, enveloped in my down comforter...kitty machine eyes closed, and my mind, so happy to be resting, jumped to nothing, to nothing, to nothing.

...Standing in my doorway was the bluish outline of a very tall man. An archetypal renaissance magician, villian. Comic really. Standing silent, staring at me.
His cape hung straight down, his top hat alighted elegantly on his crown.
His mustache, long, heavy, black--curly-cued up on both ends--with an artistic goatee to match. Comic.


The next day at work my boss call an impromptu meeting in the middle of the day.
As I returned from it, bundled up as the snow swirled about me, I alone walked past the pavillion outside the Charles Hotel, my head nuzzling into my layers of scarf.

As I passed, something drew my attention away from the icy pavement.
Up and back I looked...

And there he was. My comic magician, standing alone.
Staring again. He raised his hand to me.
He looked completely drawn from a different palette, an illustration from a fairy tale. Black sinister mustache...long cape about his shoulders, bright red pencil thin pants punctuating the grey day. A top hat, structured and perfect.
There he stood...the magician in my thoughts...staring at me happily, and waving.

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