I spilled my middle class mimosa and so made another

he was dressed to the hilt, head to toe in the hue of green.  no question the man is a survivor.  gaining his power from a chaplin cane and innumerable unseen forces, there was a singular awkwardness in his movements.  seemed to be a flexible oblivion in the knees.  I was captivated from every corner of the room, held steady by a snare drum rhythm and a piano played slightly off key, a new standard has been set for day to day living.  still young here in new orleans, it is clear now that seattle has warped my sense of the world, softened the blow and given me a false sense of grandeur.  the inkling of it has recently always been there, even before leaving, and I admit to stalling the inevitable collapse in stature, but who ever wants to admit to their own demise outright?  but watching this giant bearded leprechaun, enthralled, building pedestals for men and the imaginary beasts of lunacy, I realize that in any other town these creatures would be immediately tested for mad cow disease.  and I think about this, wonder if only for a moment if the Meaning Of It All has at all been compromised.  most likely.  but it is just as well.  it is strangely comforting to know that on more than one occasion you've come to idealize and model yourself on what seems like the ridiculous fucking morons of this world, and I can't complain, count myself lucky to stand in the rank and file.  so be it.  even if I am perhaps being hyper-critical of myself, I most certainly deserve it.  and at this point, Being Wrong is no longer a concern.  I am committed to this path even if the result is to take this life and rhyme it with an early death.  I am the god of filth ... so much for humbling experiences.