For The Ride

Again I find myself torn between a desire to communicate and an overwhelming feeling that I'm talking too loud, showing off. This thing is here just because a screen came up as I was reading some blog asking if I wanted one, too.

Sure.

Then I had to fill in the blanks and it needed a name. Well, it's my blog, I reasoned. Now, I see "Ronny Elliott's Blog" and I think to myself, " That's just dumb. You should be embarrassed."

I am.

The whole showbiz career thing trips me up in the same way. Oh, I love to sing. I love to play music. Always have.

Of course I always loved playing cowboys, too. If I put on a pair of chaps and gallop on a stick pony down the street, they're gonna lock me up. Unless I'm Ramblin' Jack, that is.

My point, if I have a point, is that I have nothing to say. It's just too hard to walk up to everyone on the street and tell them that I love them. If I could get up the nerve to do that most of them would run off or have me arrested before I could remind them to do the same. Once the rambling and ranting about war and peace started even the patient ones would be gone.

At least this allows me to simply leave my message on the front seat of an unlocked car on the boulevard. If someone looks in, fine. 

This is not my century. Neither was the last.