Laura Eno's new book 'Prophecy Moon.'
A full, rising harvest moon.
No, the actual moon, not my arse.
She decided I did it better than anyone, even Sam the Future Nostalgic who tried hard, I'll give him that, and Jon Strother, who had the good sense to cry Uncle when faced with defeat. Those guys are just amateurs when it comes to butt-kissing.
Today I went to the post office because I had a package (is there a sweeter sentence in the English language than 'I have a package?' That's why guys say it all the time.)
I even had to show I.D. to pick it up. The lady said, "I know your face but I need to match it up with some I.D." She was so full of bologna. I had never seen her before in my life and while I may be a cause celebre in blog circles, I am pretty much nobody in my real life. Oh. You mean I'm a nobody in blog circles, too? Really? Oh, that was just mean. Well I may be a nobody to you, mister, but at least I'm consistent.
I pick up the package and it's Laura's new book, Prophecy Moon. I say "squee" because that's a Laura term and I thought it deserved a little airplay in Bracebridge. A package, not only from Laura, but from FLORIDA. I'd never gotten anything in the mail from Florida before. The box had a tan, for crissakes. A real tan. And there was some beach sand stuck to the mailing label.
So there's Laura's book, in Bracebridge which, as all of us Bracebridgeonians know is in the middle of stinkin' nowhere, a zillion miles away from its creator, the Great Laura Eno. It got in a box and rode a truck or an airplane or hitchhiked or something, all the say to HERE.
Will modern miracles never cease.
But wait, it gets weirder.
On the way home from the post office tonight, me and Dave saw a full, gold, goshdarned gorgeous harvest MOON rising in the sky. A MOON. And what's Laura's book called? Prophecy MOON. I made Dave go and get the camera to get a picture of me with the moon book and the moon background. Then he took one of me mooning with the moon book and the moon background but I can't show it to you because the neighbours will see it and get jealous. Them, and the lying lady at the post office who, the next time I go there will say, "I know an ass when I see one."
If you're not as much of a butt-kisser as me, and who is, really, you'll have to go to Laura's blog to actually buy one. She lives at A Shift in Dimensions although the box really did say Florida. Maybe she lives in Dimensions, Florida. And I didn't know you could live in a shift. I knew you could wear one, but not live in one.
And if you're homeless in Shift, does that mean you're Shiftless?