jackie

Last night I was in a strange house full of strange noises with a dog that barely clears my ankles sound asleep on the couch and not standing guard at the door like I feel it should have been. Also, my hazy consciousness was telling me that this house was the key property in a shell game played over the last decade by corrupt local businessmen and, guess what, there were county documents to prove their evil. Only I didn't have the documents and the news story expose was due in five hours, except I was asleep and the corrupt businessmen's angry relatives were prowling around the house, rattling windows, muttering threats and murder. Then I dreamed I was in a store and found exact replicas of my childhood tiger and rabbit stuffed toys. I think this was a carryover from real life earlier in the day when I was at a music store in Portland browsing through the 95 cent rack and thought, "I wish I could find that Poe CD" and I turned and THERE IT WAS.

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So, I just found this out, if you click on a blogger's name and the blogger hasn't allowed public access, this message pops up:

"The Blogger Profile you request can not be displayed. Many Bloggers have not yet elected to publicly share their Profile."

What?

"Elected"?

Are these Calvinist bloggers?

Is that why Profile is capitalized... it's their god?

Back to the white board, blogger PR-men, your work is not done.

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This was the most pointless blog post ever.

Jackie thinks so too. She's looking at me with disdain and her tail is uncurled (a sign of anger). She is also bored with me. I am not worth her happy prance welcome dance. Now there's that bitter taste in her mouth, the taste of having given love heedlessly, of having opened herself up to a million letdowns. Nothing I say or do can soothe her. Trust has been broken and it cannot be rebuilt. Love has been cast along the highway and been run over, tossed by vehicles and wind, battered by rain and pooped on by seagulls. What a frail thing, trust! To trust, to be dismayed, to shatter like glass and your beloved the thrown stone.

I'll give her a crispy treat.