Lu·mi·nes·cence of elevatorbuttonlights

It is funny how when you are running along the lake, all of a sudden you see a princess riding a white horse in the distance, and then logic kicks in about 0.08 seconds later, and you realize that it is actually a small child and a sheepdog, running side-by-side. Princess or little girl, either way, it may be that she is off to save the universe's very last existing Symbol of Division (dot, over horizontal line, over dot), which is nearly extinct after falling into complete disuse, and also because of the increasing dominance of computer keyboard characters, and their impenetrable clique.

May be the universe's last surviving division symbol will seek to immortalize itself in the night sky, using stars. In which case, the first twilight line will come into existence, and the human race can oooh and awe about how there is now a twinkling linear form, which is also millions of light years away from us, unfathomably far, and so divisive, so so divisive are the remnants of feelings taken under the cold science we have neighbored. I am bitter about having to die before we ever discover things that are so far away, such that they are only meagre twinklings in an overhead hemisphere on a walk home at night.

A multiplication symbol is just a baby X.

Children, sheepdogs and spaceships. Princesses with their horses, and their brand new constellations. I do not know.

Linear stars would mean that gravity is not so stringent with its religions.

I do not know.

These are stars of the lid.

Last night, downtown Buffalo was abuzz with small children and golden pompoms, large children screaming obscenities, and ex-jocks offering me random high-fives. I was at the hockey arena, where no hockey teams were playing. There were only televisions, large and small and scattered. There were ten thousand of us. How do ten thousand people show up for an effort that is beyond all hopes, and where losing is the underlying expectation?

Buffalo wishes so much for something on which to have a communal glory about. It is very sad and beautiful, but then again I am a hockey fan.

The Buffalo Sabres won. The hockey team was three hundred miles away, but the roar of the crowd was right there, centered.

Stars of the Lid!