Tuesday, August 20, 2019

Maybe I've Got Bootstraps After All

My luck never seems to run out. Seems to me maybe I was born with more than my share. The few problems that I have seem to come from my own actions. Now I'm capable of great self-pity and melancholia comes naturally to me. Even on the bottom, though, I'm aware of my fortune.

Now, just before dawn, the ghosts want to play. Oh, I suppose you could refer to them as memories. Dreams. When you're alone, semantics don't count.

All I know is I'm glad for the company.

Friday, August 16, 2019

Everybody Believes In Something

You know what they say- "There are no Episcopalians in foxholes." Something like that.

All I know is what I see on cable news.

Won't I be a happy so-and-so when this phase of history is history. 

You don't need to remind me that music is holy. Unfortunately the music business, not so much. Jump back!

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

She Dances With Memories

She was comfortable with friends who spent something close to a million smackers for their own birthday party. An ex-husband had explained that it's not how much money you have, it's how much they think you have.

Looking back, she was never comfortable with me.

You always think that you've got at least one more at bat. I suppose Roy missed Trigger every day.

Saturday, August 10, 2019

Help! Quicksand!

What ever happened to quicksand? How about mercurochrome? Cooties? Oh, and crinolines- what on earth did we do with all that stuff that crinolines were made of?

What's become of taps on shoes? Switchblades? Jockstraps? Wax Coca Cola bottles? Moon discs? X ray specs?

As I understand it, there really is no such thing as "quicksand." If you mix the right amount of sand with the right amount of water, you'll end up with a muck that is unable to support weight. So I lost that amount of sleep between the age of seven and thirteen for nothing?

Luckily, Brigette Bardot movies came along and I quickly forgot about quicksand.

Tuesday, August 6, 2019

Mighty Big Shoulders

One of the privileges of growing old is noticing the shrinking distance between waves. Today, with a heavy heart, I detect the end of another dark age in our history. Something changed this weekend. Unfortunately, we pay a price in lives and innocence.

My beloved rock'n'roll served a lot of purposes. I suppose we all tend to regard our memories from a personal, selfish point of view. That beautiful music is the soundtrack to my past. First love, friends, loss, success, failure and every combination.

On a broader canvas, it blared through a civil rights rebellion. A sexual revolution. A peace movement. Assassinations. Watergate. Woodstock. A space race, hula hoops and the topless bathing suit.

Maybe I'll just hum Da Doo Ron Ron while love takes over and peace runs amok.

Monday, August 5, 2019

Butch Wax and Bumble Bees

Hate consumes beauty. I'm not bringing you any big news here. I understand that. Understanding your connection to everything else on the planet makes the very concept of hate ludicrous.

Love is the natural state, seems to me. Hate is the product of chemistry and biology. It is the vestigial tail of emotions. 

Nobody's vision of heaven has war. Greed. Hate.

The hippies were right. I knew it.

Sunday, August 4, 2019

Until Somebody Gets An Eye Poked Out

By the time you finish school, you have been molded into something that society has in mind for you. Sunday school helped round off some of the rough edges for lots of us. I've struggled for a lifetime to get back what I could.

You can learn a lot about recapturing your legacy in the company of a dog or a cat. 

There's a reason that a dog doesn't want you looking into his eyes. You can see through to the soul if you know what you're looking for. Oh, you'll catch them looking into yours. They will always look away when caught, as though to deny it.

My gurus have usually had four legs.