I see a looney tunes posse, from the space jam movie far far away about to be redirected again in time and space, alas from all the jamming they installed in comms, outer space is many places more.
Each character has a ball of energy they “like to bounce don’t you know who I am baby”
and I shall yell, “who is going to love you now you ain’t a baby, get on that ship or I shall stab you in the kidney”
and so it shall go,
this mistral noir.
and I sit back and perfect a cumquat, maple syrup ginger cream for my heart, Mīlestība
for my heart,
Mīlestība.
The base is a rice flour, tapioca starch short bread, no culture in the butter…
for my stomach,
Mīlestība.
Maybe a pork neck, ginger, shallot, celery cumquat, light stew for my stomach, Mīlestība.
for my stomach,
And then review the chemical incidents globally,
maybe make a graph of cases closed and learning and “justice”, maybe in an imaginary land, unlikely.
Factor in at least the reported everything and feel better the batteries in a safe do not talk to me.
& watch Batman Forever.
Just a Jim Carey movie marathon to put everything in perspective.
Look at the map again, critique the glass used in antique sextants, refuse any invitation to a sex tent.
Start again.