lines of grime

there's one now. adding dissolved oxygen, frothing like a creamy sarsparilla. i'm trying to imagine what it smells like, but i'm coming up blank. or is that "scent-free"...

needless to say the great urgency of recent efforts to develop a general treatment strategy was, in part, a fiction born of bureaucracy. an ordinary person would have guessed that the corps was going to do what the corps was going to do, and that ordinary person would have been correct. in any event, the resubmergence of the ninth ward (along with other places) will probably just distribute the contaminants further about. that worst-case exposure pathway, of toxic-laden dust blowing about and being breathed deeply by emergency workers, no-bid contractors and other unfortunates was probably developed by someone from another, more arid climate. how dusty does nola get, exactly? my recollections are more along the lines of grime, of a clinging type of funk. dust is for deserts.

says i. we read elsewhere of a lad who left his fixed-gear bicycles behind, and through some sublime convergence of internet protocols we have conspired to assemble for him another bicycle, of fixed-gear design it almost went without saying, and we are optimistic enough to believe that we will actually get this bicycle to him, wherever it is he alights after this latter-day diaspora loses its energy and the settling velocities of the individual humans become dominant. but i do hope there is little in the way of toxic sludge, or dust, in that place he eventually rides this new bike.

--->crrrnch