Nothing feels right

Pesto tortellini, salad, bread and beer and Marshas, a few more but not too many beers back at the house.

Nothing seems right to me. Somehow, I come to realize that my last blog at DCF has been deleted, and I can't imagine why. It has the word "birdshit" in it [in reality, it has the word "mousehit"], so maybe that technically violates some rule about "foul language." But I can't believe they would be so prissy as that.

I'm walking up Central telling Josh this. We're over by the new Jim White place. I look down at the gutter, and I can see into a car. The back seat is full of boxes and junk, and in the front seat are two white haired old people. Woman in the drivers seat, man is shotgun. They move jerkily, and I realize after a moment that they are really chickens, even though they are shaped like people. It's like they're down in a box and I'm looking in. They hug, the love each other. I show Josh: Look how sweet!

Jim White's seems to be gone. The flower shop is gone, too. I realize that in the place of the flower shop is some pyramid-schemey health food organization. And they have also taken over a small white building behind Humphrey's, so they have both sides of the street. I walk over, morbidly curious, and the street really becomes a narrow aisle, as if at an art fair. This place is on either side, all fake, laminated wood and harsh downlighting. They have a lot of large, fancy touchscreen displays [cf the Balloon Museum]. I sit down in front of one, a heavy, boxy affair that swivels at the waist. I start to fool around with it. An attendant comes over and says something to the effect that this is an old clunker of a display, that he wishes they could get new ones. It seems pretty fancy to me, but whadda I know? The whole time I'm turning it over in my head, why DCF would delete my work. I don't think I can retrieve it. Maybe Spring can help me.