Aw, shucks... 
Thanks everyone for the kind words about my disjointed little musings. If you guys like that sort of thing then you're in luck; my crock-pot of a head is always sort of boiling over onto whatever stainable matter is currently surrounding it, which at this time is this particular journal. And once I get my scanner and my computer on speaking terms again, I'll have the double-threat of ink stains to work with too.
But I'm less sure about my words sometimes, and therefore it's reasssuring to know everything translates and people can relate. So, thanks.
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Some twist of the superstrings has delivered me into the loving arms of four consecutive days off work. :bliss: I had the near-forgotten experience of being able to wake up with literally nothing to do all day. And let it be said that I did that to it's fullest extent.
I feel bad for people who don't live in places with winter because they don't know what it's like to experience spring. Everything literally turns from grey and brown tones to iridescent color, there are scented memories in the air again other than just car exhaust and sewer steam, and an entire city wakes up from hibernation in unison.
Living where I do has some drawbacks, quite a few in fact, but there are some things it has over every other place on earth. There are certain days in the fall and in the spring when everything is in transition that makes all the extremes worthwhile. Today was one of those days.
I wake up, apply my clothes and my shoes, and, armorless to the elements, fling the door open and launch into the day. I have no plans but now I have an agenda. Sunshine sparkles from the driveway and the spell is cast... my little red Fisher-Price Ferrari, asking to shake off the road salt, pouting and preening and practically begging for it.
This city is known for it's racetrack, but there's another one that literally runs rings around the famous one... I-465, a perfect asphault oval circling the city. Over the course of my inhabitation of this town, I've done more laps at the behest of sunny days on that track than Mario Andretti ever did on the actual speedway. Before I was consciously aware of it I was back on that road.
Never let anyone tell you that we don't live in the future. This is as future as it's ever going to get: right now. Or whenever it is that you're reading this. It's all the same continuous moment being drawn out over millenia. There is no line seperating one part from another. I may be able to fly in my dreams but in real life I can float on pressurized air at 80 miles an hour in a gravity bound spaceship with beats and ideas blowing at me from the sculpted dashboard vents. It's just that some days the light reflects differently at you for some reason and you see the shape of things as they are instead of how you've been taught to see them.
Now the night's kicking in, and the rhythms in the air cool and shift. Tonite we ride right or wrong, tonite we sail on a radio song. We've recruited the best and the brightest from all the allies in the city, and tonite we assemble the faithful and prepare a frontal assault on the fortifications of possibility. The girls all decided on going for the glitz, and so a rebel platoon of finely tailored mutherfuckers will soon descend on what passes for this city's swankiest digs and we will regulate like the FCC. The Rat Pack meets the Hellfire Club-- tall dark and deadly are the words for this evening. I'm packing my Luger water gun and a snub nosed 38 cap gun in my black jacket. Tonite I'm James Bond, Bugs Bunny, and Batman.
Which I guess means I'm technically Darkwing Duck.
So be it!
Thanks everyone for the kind words about my disjointed little musings. If you guys like that sort of thing then you're in luck; my crock-pot of a head is always sort of boiling over onto whatever stainable matter is currently surrounding it, which at this time is this particular journal. And once I get my scanner and my computer on speaking terms again, I'll have the double-threat of ink stains to work with too.
But I'm less sure about my words sometimes, and therefore it's reasssuring to know everything translates and people can relate. So, thanks.
-------------------------------
Some twist of the superstrings has delivered me into the loving arms of four consecutive days off work. :bliss: I had the near-forgotten experience of being able to wake up with literally nothing to do all day. And let it be said that I did that to it's fullest extent.
I feel bad for people who don't live in places with winter because they don't know what it's like to experience spring. Everything literally turns from grey and brown tones to iridescent color, there are scented memories in the air again other than just car exhaust and sewer steam, and an entire city wakes up from hibernation in unison.
Living where I do has some drawbacks, quite a few in fact, but there are some things it has over every other place on earth. There are certain days in the fall and in the spring when everything is in transition that makes all the extremes worthwhile. Today was one of those days.
I wake up, apply my clothes and my shoes, and, armorless to the elements, fling the door open and launch into the day. I have no plans but now I have an agenda. Sunshine sparkles from the driveway and the spell is cast... my little red Fisher-Price Ferrari, asking to shake off the road salt, pouting and preening and practically begging for it.
This city is known for it's racetrack, but there's another one that literally runs rings around the famous one... I-465, a perfect asphault oval circling the city. Over the course of my inhabitation of this town, I've done more laps at the behest of sunny days on that track than Mario Andretti ever did on the actual speedway. Before I was consciously aware of it I was back on that road.
Never let anyone tell you that we don't live in the future. This is as future as it's ever going to get: right now. Or whenever it is that you're reading this. It's all the same continuous moment being drawn out over millenia. There is no line seperating one part from another. I may be able to fly in my dreams but in real life I can float on pressurized air at 80 miles an hour in a gravity bound spaceship with beats and ideas blowing at me from the sculpted dashboard vents. It's just that some days the light reflects differently at you for some reason and you see the shape of things as they are instead of how you've been taught to see them.
Now the night's kicking in, and the rhythms in the air cool and shift. Tonite we ride right or wrong, tonite we sail on a radio song. We've recruited the best and the brightest from all the allies in the city, and tonite we assemble the faithful and prepare a frontal assault on the fortifications of possibility. The girls all decided on going for the glitz, and so a rebel platoon of finely tailored mutherfuckers will soon descend on what passes for this city's swankiest digs and we will regulate like the FCC. The Rat Pack meets the Hellfire Club-- tall dark and deadly are the words for this evening. I'm packing my Luger water gun and a snub nosed 38 cap gun in my black jacket. Tonite I'm James Bond, Bugs Bunny, and Batman.
Which I guess means I'm technically Darkwing Duck.
So be it!
hexum:
a day late is better than never. i think.