Especially for those seated in the back.

It's Halloween day. It's too bad that Halloween has such overtones of real danger these days. Back when I was a kid, you could feel relatively safe turning 7 year-olds out to run amok on the street and mostly the danger was in overconsumption. Somewhere along the line, the global village starting closing it's doors and calling the police.

The current fad of the menacing clowns seems to me to be a lose-lose situation no matter how it's played. I wouldn't feel safe dressing as a clown with a machete and running up to strangers any more than I would hesitate to shoot or run down a clown with a machete with my car if they ran at me.

Well, let's not think about that any more until we're forced to. Deal? Good. Let's talk about something more interesting.

Seems like a good day to write, what d'ya think? Kind of dark and rainy out. Perfect Halloween weather. I have my cup of coffee in hand and the washer is running in the background so productivity is on autopilot.

I should make serious headway today. This point in the story seems to have the maximum inertia. It contains an internal resistant to movement that is odd. I'm close to the end and yet, I seem reluctant to push forward. I want to be moved on to the next part of the process, Editing, re-writing. Fixing it up. that is where the pig begins to take on the luster and glow of beauty and you can finally start to imagine the rouge and the crinoline and gown and the tiara.

As the final edits are put into place we hear the crowd gasp in awe as the transformation becomes complete and it's no longer an ugly, lumpy, mud-caked pig standing there, but a beautiful, clear-eye, pink skinned, smiling pig standing there. I might add, resplendent in chiffon and holding a bouquet of exquisite red roses. Snort, snort.

A tear has come to my eye, unbidden, as I describe the sight. Let us begin the beguine (a west indian dance similar to a foxtrot but sounds cooler).

More later,


(Photo by Szolkin)