Sunday, September 25, 2011


  • I love moonflowers. Ipomoea alba.

  • The fact that they just pop out one night while no one is looking and fill the air with perfume while no one is smelling and the get the hell out before the people show up and ruin everything with their stupid admiration. People, the moonflowers sneer. Look at what they do to the roses.

  • These were perched up in a wire strung up over a party, hoping we'd be so absorbed in our boring human absorptions to ignore them so they could summon the affections of some kind of cool moon moth or something. Whatever they do up there. Leave us alone, we just got this one night.

  • There were a lot of absorptive conversations and a fire and this great pork chili made with 30 peppers and some fresh homemade warm sauerkraut (Dude!) and tequila and this stuff

    so the moonflowers were well guarded from our attention.

  • In fact, we were on our way out when one of the papery blooms fell to the ground and Maya was all, Dad! Moonflowers! And the moonflowers probably sighed, Shit, knowing their jig was up.

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