All other days have either disappeared into darkness and oblivion or not yet emerged from it. Today is the only day there is.
Frederick Buechner
********************************
Welcome to my world.
-----------------------------------------
Time is a gracious friend and also a fierce enemy. We can measure the past with memories, charts and journals. We can parcel out the future according to our needs and wishes. The thing we can't measure is the present, at least not according to time.
Time is a relative measurement. It usually refers to how long it took for something to happen. It's related to space in how long it takes an object to go from one place to another. It's also a linking mechanism. It can identify an event with another event. Such and such a thing happened at the same time as the other. History books will give us charts with fascinating information that is of relatively no use, except to historians. Alexander the Great was born on the same day that the Temple of Diana at Epheses came down.
Although the future is unpredictable we can still make charts to help us get through it. There's the Mom's mental chart of when the kids are up, dressed and fed in time for the school bus. When dinner starts in order to be ready for the family when they're hungry. Things have to be done by 10 so she can watch the TV special on panda bears.
In broadcasting there is something known as back timing. The announcer kinows how many lines of copy he can read in one minute. If he's playing a song at the end of an hour that leads up to the 3:00 news with a tone on the hour, and if he has a 60 second commercial and a 30 second commercial, as well as a station break, he has to back time that record so that it ends at exactly 2:58:10. Announcing the song will take him to 2:58:20. The 60 second commercial will take him to 2:59:20. The 30 second commercial will take him to 2:59:50. He has 10 seconds to do a station break and say "At the tone the time will be 3 o'clock." Then comes the tone and the news. If he does it right it sounds effortless and automatic. Broadcasters live their lives by the clock.
The only thing about time we can't measure is the now, this instant. It is the only thing we are ever conscious of and yet it instantly becomes the past. Every note the singer sings passes into history as soon as he sings it. Every pitch the pitcher throws disappears into oblivion the moment it is thrown. The reading of this sentence has become already a part of your past. And that is why I think it is so important to be always alert and receptive of thoughts, ideas and opportunities. The now is where we live, where we have always lived and always will live. Every moment of our lives is a birth. It's a reaching up out of the cradle for the arms of a new experience, a higher lesson and a greater awareness of joy.
DB - The Vagabond
______________________
May the cherubs of spring visit you today.
*************************
Monday, April 6, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Appointed Adventure 4/05/09
If you don't have a plan for yourself, you'll be part of someone else's.
American proverb
***************************
Greetings.
I thank the people who responded to yesterday's request for thoughts and opinions about my dream. It seems there are as many ways to dream as there are dreamers. I guess that's not surprising. I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who has dreamt that he was dreaming.
-----------------------------------------------------
This proverb above really needs to be addressed to the young, if there are any young out there you know of. Now, in my 70th year, I sometimes think back and wonder if I took the right road in life. But then I realize it's a pointless endeavor. It's the road I took. A life was lived and is being lived as a result ot that choice, for whatever reason it was made, so what's the point of wondering about it?
Perhaps there is a point in passing on to the young the lessons learned about choosing the right plan for life. But for me that is also a futile effort since there are no young people around me, and they probably wouldn't listen if there were.
In my wild and restless youth I wanted to be everything and do everything. That was because I really didn't have the resources to choose anything, and I totally lacked the guidance I needed, the advice that would have steered me in some reasonable direction and the encouragement to follow through. Those are tools every young person needs and should have. Even when I felt I was on the right track there was always someone, family or teachers, who derailed me. Most of what I remember from my childhood is what I shouldn't, couldn't or wouldn't be allowed to do. Decisions were made for me and I had almost nothing to say about them. For a young person in the 40s and 50s independent thinking was not to be practiced in my universe.
Nevertheless, in my late teens I had managed to accumulate a few skills, a rebellious and independent vagabond streak and a reputation or two. I did have some real choices to make. But I also realized no matter where I was or what I was doing I was always going to be in someone else's playground.
I chose to be an actor because that's what people kept hiring me to do. I became secure in my skill and artistry but I also knew that probably never would I have the luxury of choosing what work I would do. I would play as I was cast, and the person who cast me was the one who owned the playground.
I settled into the life of a skilled actor who was also a hired hand, a blue color artisan, labor, known in the trade as "talent." I don't regret my working life. It has been a grand adventure. But I sure wish I had had the opportunity to make my own plan for myself.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
(Facebook, etc. is breaking up that old gang of mine.)
_________________________________
Check out the Spring Quiz. 8 responses so far. We await your answers.
********************************************
American proverb
***************************
Greetings.
I thank the people who responded to yesterday's request for thoughts and opinions about my dream. It seems there are as many ways to dream as there are dreamers. I guess that's not surprising. I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who has dreamt that he was dreaming.
-----------------------------------------------------
This proverb above really needs to be addressed to the young, if there are any young out there you know of. Now, in my 70th year, I sometimes think back and wonder if I took the right road in life. But then I realize it's a pointless endeavor. It's the road I took. A life was lived and is being lived as a result ot that choice, for whatever reason it was made, so what's the point of wondering about it?
Perhaps there is a point in passing on to the young the lessons learned about choosing the right plan for life. But for me that is also a futile effort since there are no young people around me, and they probably wouldn't listen if there were.
In my wild and restless youth I wanted to be everything and do everything. That was because I really didn't have the resources to choose anything, and I totally lacked the guidance I needed, the advice that would have steered me in some reasonable direction and the encouragement to follow through. Those are tools every young person needs and should have. Even when I felt I was on the right track there was always someone, family or teachers, who derailed me. Most of what I remember from my childhood is what I shouldn't, couldn't or wouldn't be allowed to do. Decisions were made for me and I had almost nothing to say about them. For a young person in the 40s and 50s independent thinking was not to be practiced in my universe.
Nevertheless, in my late teens I had managed to accumulate a few skills, a rebellious and independent vagabond streak and a reputation or two. I did have some real choices to make. But I also realized no matter where I was or what I was doing I was always going to be in someone else's playground.
I chose to be an actor because that's what people kept hiring me to do. I became secure in my skill and artistry but I also knew that probably never would I have the luxury of choosing what work I would do. I would play as I was cast, and the person who cast me was the one who owned the playground.
I settled into the life of a skilled actor who was also a hired hand, a blue color artisan, labor, known in the trade as "talent." I don't regret my working life. It has been a grand adventure. But I sure wish I had had the opportunity to make my own plan for myself.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
(Facebook, etc. is breaking up that old gang of mine.)
_________________________________
Check out the Spring Quiz. 8 responses so far. We await your answers.
********************************************
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Zephyr Zone 4/04/09
I dreamed I was a butterfly, flitting around in the sky; then I awoke. Now I wonder: Am I a man who dreamt of being a butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming that I am a man?
Zhuangzi
*****************************
Welcome to my musings.
-------------------------------------
I had a very unusual experience Thursday night, one that has kept me curious all day. I seek your thoughts and opinions about it.
"We are such stuff as dreams are made on." Shakespeare
I woke up in the middle of the night because the phone had somehow fallen off its cradle and was beeping. I got up and put it back but saw a light on it that told me someone might be calling. I pushed the button and said "Hello." A voice said "Hi, it's David." I recognized the voice of my friend David in Vermont. I looked at the clock. It said 2:30 a. m. I know David well and knew that he wouldn't be calling me at 2:30 in the morning to chat, but he said no more and I got a dial tone. I hung up the phone and when I did I realized that I had probably dreamt the whole thing. I acknowledged that it was a dream and decided I should probably just go back to bed. It was then that I woke up.
Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream.
When I woke up I was lying in bed. The whole thing had been a dream. I dreamt I heard the phone buzzing, I dreamt getting up, picking up the phone, hearing David's voice, checking the clock and hanging up the phone. I even dreamt that I had accepted it as a dream and should return to bed. In other words I dreamt that I was dreaming. My dreaming was part of my dream. I dreamt that I was dreaming. A dream was what my dream was about.
"They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
Within a dream." Ernest Dowson
That event poses two questions to me:
1. Is it possible that some life experiences we have which we identify and acknowledge as reality are actually dreams? and
2. If so, is it possible that realizing them as dreams and acknowledging them as such would be sufficient to wake us up?
I'm not talking about somnambulism, or fast forgetfulness (whatever that's called) but actual seemingly wide awake events which seem to be true but are not. A mirage of the mind.
Merrily, merrily , merrily , merrily,
Life is but a dream.
Have you ever had an experience like my dream? If so, and even if not, what do you make of it? (And don't tell me I'm crazy, because I already know that.) I would really like to know what you think.
Sincerely, DB
__________________________________
Check out the Spring Quiz below.
*************************************
Zhuangzi
*****************************
Welcome to my musings.
-------------------------------------
I had a very unusual experience Thursday night, one that has kept me curious all day. I seek your thoughts and opinions about it.
"We are such stuff as dreams are made on." Shakespeare
I woke up in the middle of the night because the phone had somehow fallen off its cradle and was beeping. I got up and put it back but saw a light on it that told me someone might be calling. I pushed the button and said "Hello." A voice said "Hi, it's David." I recognized the voice of my friend David in Vermont. I looked at the clock. It said 2:30 a. m. I know David well and knew that he wouldn't be calling me at 2:30 in the morning to chat, but he said no more and I got a dial tone. I hung up the phone and when I did I realized that I had probably dreamt the whole thing. I acknowledged that it was a dream and decided I should probably just go back to bed. It was then that I woke up.
Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream.
When I woke up I was lying in bed. The whole thing had been a dream. I dreamt I heard the phone buzzing, I dreamt getting up, picking up the phone, hearing David's voice, checking the clock and hanging up the phone. I even dreamt that I had accepted it as a dream and should return to bed. In other words I dreamt that I was dreaming. My dreaming was part of my dream. I dreamt that I was dreaming. A dream was what my dream was about.
"They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
Within a dream." Ernest Dowson
That event poses two questions to me:
1. Is it possible that some life experiences we have which we identify and acknowledge as reality are actually dreams? and
2. If so, is it possible that realizing them as dreams and acknowledging them as such would be sufficient to wake us up?
I'm not talking about somnambulism, or fast forgetfulness (whatever that's called) but actual seemingly wide awake events which seem to be true but are not. A mirage of the mind.
Merrily, merrily , merrily , merrily,
Life is but a dream.
Have you ever had an experience like my dream? If so, and even if not, what do you make of it? (And don't tell me I'm crazy, because I already know that.) I would really like to know what you think.
Sincerely, DB
__________________________________
Check out the Spring Quiz below.
*************************************
Friday, April 3, 2009
Yielding Yank 4/03/09
It is especially important to encourage unorthodox thinking when the stiuation is crucial.
Boris Yeltsin
**********************
Read on, if you dare
----------------------------
This is the story of my completely crazy thinking and behavior at a moment when my life was in extreme danger as well as my wife and our cat.
We were in the process of moving from Harford, Connecticut to New York City. I had purchased a used station wagon which a mechanic had deemed good enough to drive to the city. So we started out at about ten thirty in the evening. It was winter. We stopped for gas and then tuned on to the highway. I 91. It began to snow, a lot.
We had traveled several miles when all at once at the bottom of a slight hill,the car started to die. I could see the dashboard lights failing, the headlights failing and the car was slowing down. In the last dim light I turned the car off to the side of the road, or what I thought was the side of the road.
I got out to inspect the car to see if there was something I could fix. While I was doing that a truck passed us. It was difficult to see anything because there were no car lights nor any overhead lights on the highway. Then two more trucks passed us, one on the left and one on the right. I was in the middle of the highway with no lights.
(To be continued.)
Just kidding.
I told my wife to get in the drivers seat and steer to the right while I went around and pushed. But the car wouldn't move. There was now about a quarter inch of snow on the highway and I was wearing sneakers, My feet kept slipping. I was about to tell my wife to grab the cat, get out of the car and get away from it. Some poor truck driver would surely come down that hill without seeing us, plow into the car and we would all be killed. But then I got another idea.
I wasn't getting any forward purchase, but I had up and down leverage. I reached down, grabbed the bumper and picked up the back of that station wagon. When I let it go it bounced once on the road but didn't go forward.
You hear of people picking up cars to rescue someone. But to pick it up more than once seemed impossible. Nevertheless, that's what I did. The second time I let go it went forward about an inch. Each time I picked it up it went a little further until it slowly rolled over to the side. I don't remember how many times I picked it up, but it was a lot, I was desperate. When I finally got it up against the fence on the side of the highway, another truck passed in the near lane and cleared us easily. Now, here comes the interesting part.
(To be continued.)
No, no.
Shortly after I started picking up the back of that station wagon I began to sing. I don't remember what song I was singing, but I sang it out loud at the top of my voice.
Now I know what a work song is. I was Nina Simone singing "Chain Gang." I was Odetta singing "Water Boy." I was The Vagabond singing my heart to the night while I saved a few lives in a totally unorthodox, impossible way.
After the car was safely on the shoulder I got in and waited for the police, who soon came and got us towed to a body shop. The mechanic drove us to the train station. We got on the mail train and got to New York at dawn. I sold the car to the mechanic for the price of the tow,
My wife couldn't believe what I had done out there on the highway, and neither could I. I don't know what the cat thought, she didn't express an opinion.
DB - The Vagabond
___________________
May you find some sunshine today.
******************************
Boris Yeltsin
**********************
Read on, if you dare
----------------------------
This is the story of my completely crazy thinking and behavior at a moment when my life was in extreme danger as well as my wife and our cat.
We were in the process of moving from Harford, Connecticut to New York City. I had purchased a used station wagon which a mechanic had deemed good enough to drive to the city. So we started out at about ten thirty in the evening. It was winter. We stopped for gas and then tuned on to the highway. I 91. It began to snow, a lot.
We had traveled several miles when all at once at the bottom of a slight hill,the car started to die. I could see the dashboard lights failing, the headlights failing and the car was slowing down. In the last dim light I turned the car off to the side of the road, or what I thought was the side of the road.
I got out to inspect the car to see if there was something I could fix. While I was doing that a truck passed us. It was difficult to see anything because there were no car lights nor any overhead lights on the highway. Then two more trucks passed us, one on the left and one on the right. I was in the middle of the highway with no lights.
(To be continued.)
Just kidding.
I told my wife to get in the drivers seat and steer to the right while I went around and pushed. But the car wouldn't move. There was now about a quarter inch of snow on the highway and I was wearing sneakers, My feet kept slipping. I was about to tell my wife to grab the cat, get out of the car and get away from it. Some poor truck driver would surely come down that hill without seeing us, plow into the car and we would all be killed. But then I got another idea.
I wasn't getting any forward purchase, but I had up and down leverage. I reached down, grabbed the bumper and picked up the back of that station wagon. When I let it go it bounced once on the road but didn't go forward.
You hear of people picking up cars to rescue someone. But to pick it up more than once seemed impossible. Nevertheless, that's what I did. The second time I let go it went forward about an inch. Each time I picked it up it went a little further until it slowly rolled over to the side. I don't remember how many times I picked it up, but it was a lot, I was desperate. When I finally got it up against the fence on the side of the highway, another truck passed in the near lane and cleared us easily. Now, here comes the interesting part.
(To be continued.)
No, no.
Shortly after I started picking up the back of that station wagon I began to sing. I don't remember what song I was singing, but I sang it out loud at the top of my voice.
Now I know what a work song is. I was Nina Simone singing "Chain Gang." I was Odetta singing "Water Boy." I was The Vagabond singing my heart to the night while I saved a few lives in a totally unorthodox, impossible way.
After the car was safely on the shoulder I got in and waited for the police, who soon came and got us towed to a body shop. The mechanic drove us to the train station. We got on the mail train and got to New York at dawn. I sold the car to the mechanic for the price of the tow,
My wife couldn't believe what I had done out there on the highway, and neither could I. I don't know what the cat thought, she didn't express an opinion.
DB - The Vagabond
___________________
May you find some sunshine today.
******************************
Thursday, April 2, 2009
25 Influences
Thank you Linda Linda S. Socha for tagging me for my 25 influences.
Working through such a list also implies "thank yous" that perhaps haven't been given.
This took a lot of thinking,
*********************************
1. My mother, of course, for good and bad
2. Classic Comics.
3. Jules Verne.
4, The Metropolitan Opera Saturday Broadcasts.
5. J. S. Bach.
6. W. A. Mozart.
7. Beethoven.
8. The operas of Richard Wagner.
9. Stravinsky.
10. Alban Berg.
11. Edward Thommen.
12. Constantine Stanislavski.
13. Shakespeare.
14. Eugene O'Neil.
15. Samuel Beckett.
16. The Beatles.
17. Paul Scofield.
18. John Cage.
19. The Bible.
20. Friedrich Nietzsche.
21. Immanuel Kant.
22. Thomas Hobbes.
23. John Moore.
24. Linda Pinkham.
25. My computer.
Who wants to go next?
Working through such a list also implies "thank yous" that perhaps haven't been given.
This took a lot of thinking,
*********************************
1. My mother, of course, for good and bad
2. Classic Comics.
3. Jules Verne.
4, The Metropolitan Opera Saturday Broadcasts.
5. J. S. Bach.
6. W. A. Mozart.
7. Beethoven.
8. The operas of Richard Wagner.
9. Stravinsky.
10. Alban Berg.
11. Edward Thommen.
12. Constantine Stanislavski.
13. Shakespeare.
14. Eugene O'Neil.
15. Samuel Beckett.
16. The Beatles.
17. Paul Scofield.
18. John Cage.
19. The Bible.
20. Friedrich Nietzsche.
21. Immanuel Kant.
22. Thomas Hobbes.
23. John Moore.
24. Linda Pinkham.
25. My computer.
Who wants to go next?
Xenophilic Xylograph 4/02/09
You can't bury your anger, but what you can do, is bury the thoughts that cause the anger.
DB - The Vagabond
****************
Hey, good buddy.
----------------------
I'm a great believer in the power of thought. It's a subject I seem to preach all the time and try to practice. Why is thought so important? Because it precedes everything. A good attitude is essential to a happy life. But even a good attitude is gained primarily by the way we think. It's the same with emotions, especially strong ones. And notice how much our behavior is managed by the way we think.
One of the most interesting things to me about thought is that while we may notice ourselves feeling and doing, we don't often notice ourselves thinking. However, if thought is the motivation for what we feel and do, isn't it obviously important to know what it is that we are thinking? I have a quote somewhere from someone which reads "Think before you think," The astonishing thing to me is that we actually have a choice about what and how we think.
You can improve your life by the way you think. Positive thinkers have been telling us that for a long time and in many ways. But I have approached that from a different draw bridge: the theatre, acting. There are a bunch of slogans to describe what acting is: "Acting is doing something." "Acting is reacting." "Acting is behaving." "Acting is living in the moment." Etc. Now I tend to tell young actors that acting is Natural Law, and, of course, they don't understand.
I was doing a long role in a two character play and when it wasn't developing well I had to sit down with the script and determine why not. The character made a lot of personal changes during the play. I began making a list of what he was probably thinking at certain places in the script. I hit upon some thought patterns that were very close to my own. In rehearsal I found myself thinking those thoughts and not about doing a play. The scenes in which I did that were progressing very well. Then I realized it wasn't because I knew what the character was thinking, it was because I was thinking what the character was thinking. So I went back to the script and defined what his thoughts would be in all the other places. In doing those scenes I chose to think what the character was thinking and the results were amazing. I learned a great lesson about acting. But an even greater lesson was that we can really choose what to think. Not opinion, not conclusions, not frame of reference, but actual thinking, a dialogue of the mind.
Why should we do that? The human mind is like a garden or a farm. If we know what we want to have grow in it, we have to plant the proper seeds. And if thought is the precedent to everything, then the seeds we plant will bring us the life we want. It's Natural Law.
DB
_______________
May you have joy to spare today.
***************************
DB - The Vagabond
****************
Hey, good buddy.
----------------------
I'm a great believer in the power of thought. It's a subject I seem to preach all the time and try to practice. Why is thought so important? Because it precedes everything. A good attitude is essential to a happy life. But even a good attitude is gained primarily by the way we think. It's the same with emotions, especially strong ones. And notice how much our behavior is managed by the way we think.
One of the most interesting things to me about thought is that while we may notice ourselves feeling and doing, we don't often notice ourselves thinking. However, if thought is the motivation for what we feel and do, isn't it obviously important to know what it is that we are thinking? I have a quote somewhere from someone which reads "Think before you think," The astonishing thing to me is that we actually have a choice about what and how we think.
You can improve your life by the way you think. Positive thinkers have been telling us that for a long time and in many ways. But I have approached that from a different draw bridge: the theatre, acting. There are a bunch of slogans to describe what acting is: "Acting is doing something." "Acting is reacting." "Acting is behaving." "Acting is living in the moment." Etc. Now I tend to tell young actors that acting is Natural Law, and, of course, they don't understand.
I was doing a long role in a two character play and when it wasn't developing well I had to sit down with the script and determine why not. The character made a lot of personal changes during the play. I began making a list of what he was probably thinking at certain places in the script. I hit upon some thought patterns that were very close to my own. In rehearsal I found myself thinking those thoughts and not about doing a play. The scenes in which I did that were progressing very well. Then I realized it wasn't because I knew what the character was thinking, it was because I was thinking what the character was thinking. So I went back to the script and defined what his thoughts would be in all the other places. In doing those scenes I chose to think what the character was thinking and the results were amazing. I learned a great lesson about acting. But an even greater lesson was that we can really choose what to think. Not opinion, not conclusions, not frame of reference, but actual thinking, a dialogue of the mind.
Why should we do that? The human mind is like a garden or a farm. If we know what we want to have grow in it, we have to plant the proper seeds. And if thought is the precedent to everything, then the seeds we plant will bring us the life we want. It's Natural Law.
DB
_______________
May you have joy to spare today.
***************************
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Whimsical Wisdom 4/01/09
Seven days without laughter makes one weak.
Mort Walker
***********************
Hi. I am the April Fool
-----------------------------
I wake up with a cheerful attitude, ho hum, another day. I stagger around a bit, make some coffee, drink it, find out what time it is, what day it is and start some music playing, The Chipmunks Greatest Hits.. Then I sit down at my desk and look at the problems that face me. Oh, dear. Alas and alack. Woe is me. How will I ever get things done and straightened out? It's no use trying. All is lost. I give up.
But then my brain starts working. The coffee is kicking in. It's that good old Brazilian Jungle River brew. After my bowl of gruel and molasses, I feed the animals I have to feed them right away so the kangaroo won't pee on my foot. The giraffe has not been eating well lately. I hope she's not pregnant. I'll have to take her over to the vet one of these day. He's a herpetologist, but I guess he could treat a giraffe if he had to.
Then I call Hong Kong, Moscow and The Vatican to collect my messages, pay my sky diving instructor's bill, another month's rent on my dinghy, just a few more payments on the mortgage and I'll own my blimp outright. I answer a few letters and dash off a note to Obama, he's expecting it, Then it's time to take the armadillo out for his walk. That takes a long time. He's very slow and has to stop and smell every damn thing. If I try to rush him he gets nasty. You don't want to rile an armadillo.
I don't have time for a proper lunch so I mash up one of last year's Easter eggs and make a sandwich. It's a shame because they're so pretty. After lunch I ponder what I'm going to write in my journal for today, do some reading from the ancient texts and make some notes on my sleeve.
Oh, no! I just remembered I have to make cookies for tomorrow's Sack Race Festival. Well, I'll just have to put up the Christmas lights another day. It's only April after all, they can wait. I must remember the Pick Your Own Forsythia Weekend coming up. The Everhollow Banjo Band will entertain, if it doesn't rain. After the cookies are made it's time for my dinner: baked squid with radish sauce and a piece of onion pie, if there's any left.
Before I forget I have to decide what I'm going to write in my weekly column for "Denture News." I hitch up the warthog to the wheel and get him walking to generate enough electricity to get my computer on, and since a lot of my usual correspondents have gone to sleep for a year or two, I sit down to see what my blogspotter friends have been up to.
Well, I see Larry's back in jail. Clyde and Gracie have gotten married again for the fourth time. Wow! Jasmine won $5 in the lottery. Congrats Jasmine. Way to go girl! Aw, Clarissa finally ran off with her pastor, may heaven bless them. Bruno drove his truck into the Wabash River, Come on Bruno, learn to drive. Mary Loo writes that the Holy Cross Bingo Hall was raided by the police again last night. And Miss Foo Foo has fleas. Sounds like a normal day.
Now for my journal. What famous quote should I use? Ah, I have it. "East is East and West is West." That ought to get them thinking.
It's been a full day.
......................................
DB Vagabond Foolishness.
___________________
May you hear the bluebird sing today.
**********************************
Mort Walker
***********************
Hi. I am the April Fool
-----------------------------
I wake up with a cheerful attitude, ho hum, another day. I stagger around a bit, make some coffee, drink it, find out what time it is, what day it is and start some music playing, The Chipmunks Greatest Hits.. Then I sit down at my desk and look at the problems that face me. Oh, dear. Alas and alack. Woe is me. How will I ever get things done and straightened out? It's no use trying. All is lost. I give up.
But then my brain starts working. The coffee is kicking in. It's that good old Brazilian Jungle River brew. After my bowl of gruel and molasses, I feed the animals I have to feed them right away so the kangaroo won't pee on my foot. The giraffe has not been eating well lately. I hope she's not pregnant. I'll have to take her over to the vet one of these day. He's a herpetologist, but I guess he could treat a giraffe if he had to.
Then I call Hong Kong, Moscow and The Vatican to collect my messages, pay my sky diving instructor's bill, another month's rent on my dinghy, just a few more payments on the mortgage and I'll own my blimp outright. I answer a few letters and dash off a note to Obama, he's expecting it, Then it's time to take the armadillo out for his walk. That takes a long time. He's very slow and has to stop and smell every damn thing. If I try to rush him he gets nasty. You don't want to rile an armadillo.
I don't have time for a proper lunch so I mash up one of last year's Easter eggs and make a sandwich. It's a shame because they're so pretty. After lunch I ponder what I'm going to write in my journal for today, do some reading from the ancient texts and make some notes on my sleeve.
Oh, no! I just remembered I have to make cookies for tomorrow's Sack Race Festival. Well, I'll just have to put up the Christmas lights another day. It's only April after all, they can wait. I must remember the Pick Your Own Forsythia Weekend coming up. The Everhollow Banjo Band will entertain, if it doesn't rain. After the cookies are made it's time for my dinner: baked squid with radish sauce and a piece of onion pie, if there's any left.
Before I forget I have to decide what I'm going to write in my weekly column for "Denture News." I hitch up the warthog to the wheel and get him walking to generate enough electricity to get my computer on, and since a lot of my usual correspondents have gone to sleep for a year or two, I sit down to see what my blogspotter friends have been up to.
Well, I see Larry's back in jail. Clyde and Gracie have gotten married again for the fourth time. Wow! Jasmine won $5 in the lottery. Congrats Jasmine. Way to go girl! Aw, Clarissa finally ran off with her pastor, may heaven bless them. Bruno drove his truck into the Wabash River, Come on Bruno, learn to drive. Mary Loo writes that the Holy Cross Bingo Hall was raided by the police again last night. And Miss Foo Foo has fleas. Sounds like a normal day.
Now for my journal. What famous quote should I use? Ah, I have it. "East is East and West is West." That ought to get them thinking.
It's been a full day.
......................................
DB Vagabond Foolishness.
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May you hear the bluebird sing today.
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