Gab last week, in the midst of not running about with influenza, got
busy once
again on the moratorium john project. With half a yellow DIXON lumber
crayon
in hand and a Vermont black grade-A roofing slate he set himself for a
day’s
spell of doing photo-ramma-tree of the cavity. I’m told, several times
I’m
told, that jagged edges in fiberglass are not all that easy to
delineate, you
know. It looks like a bearded amoebae the way Gab draws. If his hands
did not
shake so much it would still not be a recognizable image.

I explained to him that renderings of the exterior of the assemblage
would be
of more value in any replication efforts, especially if he wanted to
send it
out for professional opinions. Peer review, that sort of un-bi-arsed
stuff. He
rejoined that that may be all fine for fart students living on cabbage
and
Jell-O and would certainly satisfy fuddled building inspectors with
their
hands out --  he could not at the time afford sitting outside the gross
aggregate long enough to draw an earthworm, let alone the vacant space
of the
Beatnik’s hole. So we get ourselves a reverse image of the ancient
damage. I
recommended he use liquid cork, or eat a dozen bananas, when next the
artistic
urge struck.

Steam of Consciousness forgot what it was doing and got a paying day job

hitting nails with a tack hammer and sawing rotted barn boards or
squirting
with borates and then injecting them with plastic syringes full of
secret
epoxy in a funky melon scent.

Eti jumped in with her favorite recipe for oatmeal poultice. Two cups
oatmeal,
a sprinkle of dried wintergreen berries, and one-half cup undiluted
muriatic.
She uses it to strip calcium chloride off the bottom of the wood stove
after
the spring floods have subsided.

We conjecture a large Doc Martin boot was used, as the hole does not
correspond well with experiments Gab did with framing hammers, beating
it with
chains, and subjugation using a random mix of other blunt kitchen
utensils. I
only wish he had experimented on another object than the historic
subject loo.
Where before we were only slightly distressed, now it looks as if we are

totally distressed.

A lot of rilem tubes and Christmas bulbs were broken off in the
examinatory
melee and quadrillions of baby sea monkeys have inadvertently been set
free to
interpolate Bullamanka. Will they perverse in this brash environment?

][<en Follett