Ancestral Dandruff...

I love listening to old music.... watching old movies.... staring at the old people in the grocery store.... It reminds me that there indeed was a place, a moment, in time.. other than this one... and not only other than... but before... That really means something... or well, at least it can, if you decide to acknowledge it... which you should.. we all should.... I can't help but feel a disconnect with where we all seem to be at the moment.... I've always been that way... but at the same time... I do bear that youthful rebellion... that blatant disdain for rules... policies.. or, really, anyone at all trying to tell me what to do...... But what can you really do in this life that doesn't involve having to do what someone else is telling you to?... It's just all a part of the game isn't it?.... I used to work at a pizza place... Did I really care about making the best pizzas in the world and providing outstanding customer service?... No.... but, in a way, I had to... in order to keep receiving a paycheck..... What are you doing for a living at the moment?...... Would you have even the slightest interest in it if wasn't your job?... Would you even think of putting any time into it at all if you weren't getting paid for it?....... If you can honestly answer yes.... then go sit in the corner until you realize just how unbelievably fortunate you are...................... and if you can't answer yes...... Then you just might be me......

Courtesy Flush...

I've been thinking a lot about writing lately.... my first love..... I guess I've kind of left it... 'sold out a little bit... I suppose I could do it full time.. knock out pages and pages, daily.... I'd have to get used to sleeping on cement though.... true suffering for the art...... Some people suggest that it requires a sort of balancing act..... I don't entirely (at all, really) agree... I wouldn't care much for that diluted lifestyle.... I'd rather be a square in a necktie than a phony with Ray-Bans and a closet full of flannel...... And I don't ever want to come off as presumptuous... you know?... Why should I feel that anyone cares about what I'm writing...? or that they may be at all impressed with anything that I may have come up with?... but I love to tell stories..... and I hate to shove them away in my closet after they've been written and never allow them the chance to be appreciated by eyes other than my own... as if they've the right to be appreciated anyway.... I just..... get tired of my thoughts... on reality.... because.... in reality... I'll never reveal them to you.... and we'll just go on playing this big game.... and you'll smile, and I'll smile..... and everyone will play nice.... and I should know better by now....... I know.....

I Hate Trying To Think Up Titles...

I've been thinking a lot about why people blog lately... Or rather... lately, about why people blog... in case you were thinking that I meant that I've been thinking about why people are blogging "at the moment"... anyway... The only (valid) thing that I can think of is that, if the "at heart" blogger doesn't blog.. he (or she) will implode... I know... because I've been imploding for the last couple of weeks... It took me a while to realize what it was, but quite fortunately, I've been having a number (a rather fine number) of things being revealed to me lately... and that's all I ask for, really.. That's always been my problem.. lacking that next (that very next) step... and now... I'm still not sure that I know what it is... but I've been walking them... And I feel like I'm wearing a brand new pair of shoes...

Unnecessarily Big Water Bill..

So my neighbors still have their sprinklers on... I wonder if those kinds of people even notice things like that.. I tend to take those types of things very personally.. I think it's because I notice everything.. every little thing.. Like one of those old-school farmer types, very particular... or "anal" (anal retentive) as I think most people would say nowadays... and I think that my noticing everything sometimes makes me feel like it would have to be impossible for others not to notice these things as well... But that kind of ignorance (truly) is bliss, I'm beginning to believe.. Those are the kinds of people that leave their sprinklers on during rainstorms and sleep like they've just had a couple of Ambiens, while people like me lay awake and wonder if the mustard and the ketchup talk to each other when you close the refrigerator door... I envy those other people.... such simple beings.... Not that I'm dubbing myself as more sophisticated, or even "complicated"... but I simply make things hard on myself.... or maybe I can't help it... I don't know.... but I know that I can't make it stop..... If I could... I'd be asleep right now.......

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Paint Me..

Who's imitating you?... and what are they going to end up doing because of you?... There wouldn't be quite as many shaggy heads in the world if it weren't for The Beatles... as many eye-pokes, if it weren't for The Three Stooges... or even, (dare I say?).. a "Seinfeld" without the inspiration of a Woody Allen.... Everybody wants to be like someone else, in one way or another... I wanted to grow facial hair when I was a lot younger....... and now..... I HAVE to shave...... What's my point?..... My point is.... this... is an AMAZING song.....

"S-A-N-F-O-R-D, Period."

You don't realize just how disgusting your living situation happens to be until you know someone's coming over.. It's even worse when you DON'T know they're coming over, and your only warning is the doorbell... I've learned to hate the sound of my doorbell........ So....... I'm at home.. on a warm, Friday afternoon.. "YouTubing" like I do.. and I hear the doorbell ring... I figure it's a Jehova's witness, or someone trying to get me to subscribe to the newspaper... I rush to the door, quickly (yet quietly).. look out the peep-hole.. and realize that it's the guy that needs to check on a couple of things regarding the new house... warranty stuff... so... I scramble to find a pair of pants (I take my casual Fridays seriously) and answer the door... Long story short.... I ended up asking him to come back two and a half hours later, SO I COULD CLEAN...... That's.... embarrassing..... but it's not my fault... apparently, I married Fred Sanford... My wife will say, any day, that she's cleaner than me..... she's wrong..... and you can tell her I said this too..... So..... I must've burned eight thousand calories, single-handedly, cleaning this entire place.. all by my lonesome... but I'm glad.. because I no longer feel like I'm living on the set of "COPS"....