I thought we might go out on the town for a bit of carousing this steamy evening, but my ever-sensible domestic partner brought it to my attention that we’ll be seeing a lot of moonlight the next several days and should probably charge our batteries tonight. Unfortunately, he chose to remind me of this after I got all hopped up on two gallons of caffeine. To calm myself down, I traipsed around the corner for a cocktail to go. Unfortunately, I’ve drunk 2601 completely out of Pernod, so I had to settle for Herbsaint, which is close, but not the same.
Coming home, I was reminded of a phrase often repeated by a New Orleans performer qui s’appelle Becky Allen, which goes something like “New Orleans is the uterus of the world: we can grow anything.” And as I walked up the stoop to see a fistful of slugs slowly dragging their slimy, glabrous bodies over the cat food we leave out for the half-dozen strays we’ve adopted over the past several months, I thought, “Maybe Becky’s onto something.” Multi-cellular organisms are just plain weird. (Yeah, us, too.)
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