Sunday, January 28, 2007

rock me rock me

rock me like you never did before.

Dragons, themselves, are uniformed and common phenomena. Their inherent plurality is decidedly individuated: what connects one to another is not a lake of fire or bloodline or even what we'd call genetic trifling. Heirlooms with dragons on them, on the other hand, are very sparse. People have been viciously slandered and eventually bedridden because of a family fuse blown over granny's dragon drawn rolltop desk or great uncle Theodocious's dragon wall clock--the one with the tail that ticks off the hours. You know.

If your man ain't jealous, I declare, he got an evil mind.

The last recorded encounter with a living dragon occured on the Isle of Mann in 1764. The seas were high and unforgiving. 17 men on their way out to sea for an 8 week fishing excursion encountered what they thought to be a series of small boulders on the coast. It had not been there three days earlier when they moored their boat and headed inland for supplies. There are no drawings and not a man among them could accurately describe how the thing moved when it finally did.

You should have been there last night and heard what the big dipper said.

In the particular instance of St. George, there are varying reports. The most interesting being the one that was turned into a house by Antonio Gaudi. How he turned the story into a livable abode happens to be unexplainable in and of itself, but it's there in Barcelona accosting the locals and pilgrims alike. His version has steel bars over the eyes, which are windows and the scales are the roof and I don't know where the sword comes in.

One guy I know thinks he's hard to get along with.

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