Bestiality, in other words

had me check your blog. Aghast you'd omitted me from the short-list of past paramours influencing your hyper-nuanced being, I then thought, "Omitting me is more of a statement than if she had not."

Yesterday I traveled with likely the most thoroughly decent person I've known--of the non-psychopathic genus "hotsweetsapien-- to a small glade post-modernistically ensconced in a casino hotel, smack dab in the middle of a town populated by no more than 4000 discombobulated souls, none of them lost to German sneezing fits. The pond/glade held crappie fish, nondescript turtles and a dozen of the alligators famed here, stitched into clothes, slapped as stickers onto the backs of cars, bottles of especially piquant cajun sauce, and so forth. At first I assured my very close companion that we'd been defrauded: we were looking at statues. N'est pas, Joseph, c'est vrai. Two minutes of staring at a specimen lounged on a faux-stone betrayed nothing of its living status until I finally discerned it breathing, a long soft intake of air almost imperceptibly swelling its stupid, vestigal body. I felt like piercing it, felt momentarily enraged at the staring eyes reflecting almost perfectly my own illimitable appetite for anything clear, clean, cold, uncompromising. Then my companion got me fumbling towards the entrance to "the Atrium," possibly the most misnamed bar on earth since it's composed of ice and has nothing to do with the sun except the absence of it.The Atrium, though, was not our destination. 

I once called you a jellyfish. Truer to the bone, you're a reptile, scaly and opportunistic. Is there a more pointlessly nuanced creature than the alligator? It moves only to lure and pounce, never exerting a truly artful calorie of energy towards creation for its own sake, which is to say, God's. Unwilling to bumble, it never chances upon the revelations Chance provides, becoming instead a marvel of tired evolution soon fit for the digital scrolls of extinguished species. You can't calculate without needing to dash it all to the wind because the wind came, and call yourself an artist. A salient lesson unlearned.  

This blog began with a post to you, Jessika, but will not end the same way. My own bumbling assent to visiting