Avoided Halloween weekend this year. Halloween. The only holiday of the year really worthy of celebrating. God, what is wrong with me?

Jatasya hi dhruvo mrityur
Dhruvam janma mrtasya ca

1) The Call of Jury
The last two weeks have been spent beneath the florescent lights of the King County Courtroom. As is the nature of such democratic rites of passage, I'm not allowed to speak on the nature of the trial until it's over. The deliberation looks like it'll be slated for Wednesday of next week. Transportation/time sacrifices aside, it's a relatively simple commitment and if nothing else, an experience I can add to the long list of I Survived It. All right, maybe that's a bit cynical. But truth be told, I have no idea what I'm actually going to get out of the experience once it's through. I'm imagining one of those long, soul-searching coffeehouse conversations where we weigh the pros and cons of the legal system and conclude that justice is the Mother of Suspicion. Or a Pink Ostrich.

2) Halloween
I'm going as Waldo. Trying desperately not to be mistaken for Rivers Cuomo.

3) The Autumn of Our Disposition
The leaves are crimson now. I am an animal of deficiency. I need food. I need music. I need literature. I need Yerba Mate. I need casual sex. I need new socks.

4) It's 7:37 AM and I'm so feeling the quantum slip.

Don't Dance at Our Carnival

We dedicate this feast
To all the gypsy beast and bandits;
To the rough of heart who couldn’t stand it
In the sands of war;
To all the vexed, betrayed and sex-crazed;
Roaring voices reprimanded;
Here’s our chorus side-winding up
Through the palace floor.
We dedicate this feast
To fallen priests and foiled rivals,
Learn our faces from your children,
You are our warriors no more.
For today, we are the wild, tyrannic
We’ve captured your Prince of Panic
Don’t dance at our carnival.

And to the rest of you, awake, now,
From the windows where you wait now,
Tell the Prince we’re taking over from today.
Tell him: “You’ll hear us, you will see us,
“You will fear us, you’ll believe us”
“When we say you’re meter’s up
“And the time has - come to pay.
“So don’t dance at our carnival.
“Don’t dance at our carnival.
“Don’t dance at our carnival.”

The ground beneath your feet is lifting,
Everybody shift it down,
Before we ain’t got no more days
Around to celebrate.
Years from now, they’ll dig our memorandums
And our ancient tantrums
Sing them to their sons
As the Euphrades hibernates.
And when our seeds of legacy
Rise up to form their paradise,
We’ll guard the gates where they all
Fold their hands to speak and pray.
For today’s the day we rise volcanic,
Singing to our Prince of Panic:
“Don’t dance at our carnival.”

Operator, standby:
Weatherman’s in high-tide;
Tell the nineteen networks
Armageddon’s got an alibi;
The boy in the angel wings
Says that he is seeing things:
Flood in the aquarium;
Fire in the city streets.
Come quarter-to-eleven,
Napalm wagon’s gone to heaven,
And the sky is gonna freeze us,
Quick – ‘Say cheese’ for Jesus.
Party’s in the arboretum,
Tarot frauds and shorts for freedom;
Orphans, inside - curtain down
On Dr. Sousa’s suicide.
No, we ain’t never gonna see the year
Two-thousand-sixty-nine…
We ain’t never gonna see the year
Two-thousand-sixty-nine…

Beasts and bandits, will you wake now?
From the windows where you wait now?
Tell the Prince we’re taking over for the day.
Tell him: “You’ll hear us, you will see us,
“You will fear us, you’ll believe us
“When we say you’re meter’s up
“And the time has - come to pay.
“No, you won’t dance at our carnival.
“Don’t dance at our carnival.
“Don’t dance at our carnival.”