Friday, February 23, 2007

What did Yours Truly photograph on this fine Middling City day.
Well, YT will tell you.
A bot war.
You know, as in (ro)bot, war.
Made by young met at the U, guys who were either resembling lumberjacks in plaid shirts, huge of stature, or resembling little thin branches that lumberjacks would send crashing to the ground.
The branch guys involved in this bot war were the ones, YT noted, who manned the remote controls of the bots.
There was a plexi cage, a roof of chix wire, a small door. All this elevated.
It rather reminded me of the cock rings in the Philippines with its ring of shouting watchers, the door, and the feeling of a minor, imminent doom.
Poked around the crowd and made images from outside the door and then leaning into the bot war ring when there were adjustments being made - until a concerned citizen type said it was time to get the hell out.
These bots were impressive, not quite Mark Pauline in that they did not shoot out fire, but they were heavy, metal, and caused great damage.
Back to cock fights. Talked my way into one cock ring and did not feel that if a cock with 4-inch blade flopped my way that I'd be cut to ribbons.
Made images at end of all rounds that one sweltering day when the cock owners and handlers butchered the cocks who had lost.
Runner-ups are gone, as in roost in sky gone.
Speaking of destruction,
there is a jungle rot thing happening on one of YT's fingers, something I squirted Bactine on for a few days. Well now it's angrier. So now it's being swabbed with something more serious.
The medically-minded sister got rather hysterical upon hearing about the jungle rot, at one point suggesting, dig this, that it could, just Could, be a flesh-eating spider bite.
She got hysterical after I mentioned the swollen lymph node.
After she hystericed I suggested that that only means that my body is working to get rid of the, well, whatever it is.
Promised her that if this ebola thing is worse on sunday I will, promise, no fingers crossed, head to some authority on such matters.
Perhaps the zoo. Maybe botanical gardens.
Santa Ria practioner.
I just do not know.

Flesh-Eating Love.

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