Monday, March 26th, 2007
Events blaze across time with the speed of blackstrap. Texas under the influence of anise and the blood of some vague ungulate. Though we drag our feet, though empires rise and fall in the time it takes dice to roll off the fingers and come to rest, though events take Texas Time in Texas, they still fit in a single day. Whirling form of dust and mesquite, hickory and redbud, the bleach of bones and the tanning of hides, all embedded in this land as sand embeds in lash and skin. And when the company is fine in Austin, it is Mighty fine (one, not I, but one, might say Texas Fine). But there is another maelstrom, one of flesh, that writhes and shivers along E 6th St, which, by John Hunter’s account, is the true earthly embodiment of the discarded (or, as They say: fallen) angel. By this other storm, this other beast of human bodies, shall we be devoured; consumed, of our own volition, in body and will. Is this the Lone Star? The revolving impenetrable singularity beckoning with bent finger to all that which lies outside itself. If, as the scientists say, the universe tends towards entropy, then, perhaps, Texas, true to the desires of it’s prodigal son, is truly fulfilling the "plan" of "god."
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