Well.

Another september is upon us folks, and the air here (in NYC) has just broken, the humidity receded south for a spell, allowing my spirits to scamper out from under the bed toward the crack of the closet in a mad dash, tongues flailing, spit misting, hair frothed.  Hopefully the night chill won't grab them up too quick, what with her slinder fingers from the space between the floor boards.

I can hear laughter stream in from the dining room, the kind of cackle that is either fully manufactured or fully insane, and I don't want to stop to think about which is preferable, to be synthetic or crazy, but there are blobs of dust in my way and my feet stopped working, and there's a schedule to keep anyway, and a cookie to bake and a turkey at the gates, cawing toward me with a melodic purr, and I swear that I just put the keys down a table here, but all I can see is a bit of green-tinged dust.  A jack-o-lantern, and fragrant dreams, and jack frost in my ears, and there I was, in the mirror, staring at the madness of a field changing under arid desert conditions, of me on horseback, of a man named Alexis, a man with a oddly shaped face like the front of a car.

And advertisements blaze onward all around, and warm my back like the bite of whiskey I used to make it a practice to dip my frontal lobe in before going out for some tennis. It gave me grip on the court, though tonight I will go underground and bob and weave and shake and bake, and eventually out I'll come, all crispy and free. 

Note: Adjust baking time for your oven. Over temperatures vary.  You may get crispy pieces in some parts and other parts that are undercooked if you rush it.