Jetpack

Barring some measure of catastrophe, ranging from administrative delay to sea-dwelling lizard monster emerging from the depths to stomp wantonly across the Greater Los Angeles Metropolitan Statistical Area, by this time tomorrow I shall have slipped the surly bonds of earth to touch the face of God, so long as God had the foresight to book Himself on the same transoceanic flight as me. In coach.

So this evening has been more about focusing on packing things and checking those packed things against the many, many lists I've made* to ensure nothing gets missed than it has my usual deeeeep rumination and marination, waiting patiently for the liquid medium of imagination to ferment and flower into the potent bolts of literary white lightning you're used to imbibing in this space.

I won't keep you in suspense: I think I packed everything. I'm pretty sure. I mean, packing, like science, is an enterprise wherein one can never claim 100% certainty, but as I'm a rational humanist, I will choose to interpret the variance in certainty levels as a wondrous affirmation of the limits of human knowledge hemmed in by the borders of our apprehension, our available senses and the cultural contexts that structure our imaginative impulses. The other option is to fall into the lazy safety of invented certainty, and we all know that that way leads to humans riding dinosaurs.

The flight doesn't leave until around 10 pm Friday night though, so in the meantime I can catch up on the latest meaningful exchanges between Ted Cruz** and Donald Trump*** as they manfully argue in public about the fuckability of their own wives. Remember when something like this happened with Kanye West and Amber Rose and then Amber and Kim got together to squash this shit? Heidi and Melania would do well to take a page from the Kim-Amber playbook.

Man, am I ever OK with the idea of getting out of this country for a few days.

I'll try to post something next Thursday, but I'll essentially be time traveling over the next week, so who even knows?

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*If it doesn't require you to make a list to keep track of your lists, your process is childish and wrong.

**A marshmallow in a man suit

***The exact personification of what I imagine butterbeer should look like