a little troll named fate

A friend gave me a card recently that said, "Ever notice that 'what the hell' is always the right decision?" Yeah. I noticed. I'm a fucking practitioner. Ask all the coworkers, neighbors, friends, lovers, pubs, schools, coffee shops I've left behind. Nah, I'm not going there with this post.

But yes, I got no problem leaping. Comes easy. Comes natural. Almost a fetish for me. It's often a choice between claustrophobia and adventure. Duh, not a hard choice. But I gotta say, and I say this in a conspiratorial whisper, all the adventures have been good. Not just good, uhm, dare I admit, charmed?

Very few regrets. Lots of great memories. It's all been pretty easy. So far. How long can a roll like this go on?

A breeze came through, turned me on that string the universe dangles us all from, and look, a whole new panorama. We sold our house the same week I finished up at the Fringe, the same week some paying work came through, the same week some short-term places to stay were kindly offered. Now that's all just too good.

We dared to be cheerful about it, even a bit giddy and liberated, and I warned Alan, "Don't tempt fate." He said he thought I didn't believe in fate. And I clarified, not the destiny kind of fate, no, but a little troll creature named fate, yes. with a pock-marked face and a bulbous nose, who is easily tempted by hubris and exacts revenge by fucking up your pretty sky.

But here's the good news. My back went out again. Full spasm. Slept on the floor last night, pinned down by lots of blankets and a cat who is somehow getting fat on Lite food. Haven't taken one of my magic opiates yet because without insurance now I'm rationing. And I think I've caught a very wicked cold.

It's maybe the most gorgeous day of the year and I'm holding down the couch with kleenex and moans. So there, you little troll, we're even, OK? So keep your creepy fat fingers off my sky, will ya?