She was the forgotten love-child of a Sumerian orchardist and his blind French mistress, passed on in her tenderest years to a notorious district in the notorious brothel district. She grew and grew until she was twelve foot five and her only customer paid in apricots because her distended stomach could tolerate nothing else. Her pregnancies were legion, yet her unrequited lust for canapés enhanced her awful beauty, and her nightly flights along the rooftops of Salvador de Bahia caused comment. Across the smoke-stacks and train-tracks traipsed this painted women; and where her dainty feet fell, marking the ground and sky alike with cream-coloured paw-prints, soon to follow were the inimitable multitude of monsterly creatures, her mutant spawn.
Mother you called her, plaintive by the battering seagrave til by came the humanchine, singularicurse mulitplicious of the racine philosophomus, dooming down the swallow shore. And borne into his forked limbs amerged you werecat, once brine now scree.
***
So, even Kronos made some mistakes back in the day. His own kids ended up putting a contract out on him after all. A fairly good indication, I think we'll agree, of some spectacularly bad parenting on his part at the very least. I can relate to Kronos, not only thanks to my titanic intellect either, but because I've been a very bad parent lately too. And the progeny of my various misdemeanors, misjudgments and miscalculations are all sharpening their knives as we speak. As I type. As you read. This is fine. Even God is up in Heaven now. Far better men than I have stumbled and fallen on some awkward morning. All mourning is awkward.
The details aren't very important - to you - but the Devil is undeniably in them. My own nature is a rotten, manaical Judas sometimes and my observation skills are nothing to write home about, and so it is that one day you/we/I look up and around your/our/myself and wonder just how in any God/Dog's name you could have ended up where you have. Nursing the wounds that you/we are. No matter! We live, we learn. Sam told me once that If at first you don't succeed, fail and fail again.
Fail better.
My mood has been all shot to hell since January but I sense a resurgence coming. I'll need to be proactive (ick) but I think all in all, when the dust has settled and the smoke has cleared - I'll be fine :) and isn't that nice.
And aren't I a sensitive little man! I mean, good god... :D
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