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July 7, 2001

independence days

I suffer from writer's block still.   What pale light I may possess has scattered.   I type these words to stir the spirit.

My July 3rd was spent with a strange cowboy and his wife who greeted me with a hug and a bowl of cherries.   We saw the rockets' red glare.

On the morning of July 4th, I opened my back door to let my dog out.   There on the step was a black lizard, his back legs blown off as though he had stepped on a landmine.   Though he had clearly departed this earth, I snapped to attention and saluted him.   I hummed a bit of Sousa as I laid him to rest under the birdbath.

I drove to Houston on the 5th and began a deposition of a plastic surgeon who had treated several men burned at a Zydeco festival.   The proceedings were interrupted by an intercom command that the building be evacuated.    A brisket had flared in the kitchen and the hotel was on fire.   I made a friend that evening.

I have begun a standup comedy act.   I am starting with small venues---like elevators.   As my co-passengers get off the elevator at each floor and the doors close behind them, they can hear me say,  "You've been a great audience!"   Sometimes you can really feel the love in the room.

©  2001 by the beastmaster