oldjack

Journal for Wednesday March 13, 2008 for older people

Today it is proven, My mind is a meager mass of mush. Meandering from moldy, masculine minimal mosh pits to massive meals of metaphorical mish mash. There that's finished and no harm was done. Memory is a terrible thing to lose, I don’t mean amnesia but “what the hell am I doing on the stairs?” am I on my way up? or going down. Your at the supermarket, no list just winging it, you haven’t had lunch yet, so you really should be careful. That isle with the perfect turquoise bay and alabaster white beaches, let us land there! That’s the problem you screw up a word and your on a completely different playing field. Words are such marvelous things, they can do heroic battles, woo innocent maidens. Have you ever bowled a maiden over? That's like pitching a no-hitter. in the game of cricket. Speaking of which have you ever played Grasshopper? Aha! I assumed not. Beetle is a game played in Britain with a deck of cards, I think it’s called a drive. When you drive cattle they are on foot! when they are carried by vehicle they are trucked. Trucking was an innocent dance move of the 40’s and Arti Shaw played “string of pearls then, That was a great tune to dance to. A nice rhythm and sweet beat. The beat of a drum is most hypnotic, a Chinese, drum, (one hundred million miracles) a Japanese drum, I remember an evening in Tsukuba in the hills above Yokohama I heard a distant drumbeat, It was a warm moist evening and the beat beckoned me, I wandered about a half mile and came upon a large group of slightly drunken Nihon jin Beating off! It was magnificent! They seemed to take turns leading and the sounds were awesome! Awe like the first view of Yosemite or Niagara falls. something like taking my son into the lobby/atrium of a hotel in Frisco that had some 13 stories all facing the lobby floor. and little glass elevators whisking up and down.and the appropriate word was wow! A wow like you shout when you first step on the edge of the Grand Canyon. gee whillikers wouldn’t it be nice to have it on your back doorstep. such a trash can! Can you imagine some archeologist in the far distant future, digging our middens through stacks of plastic covered newspapers that can just barely be made out. This looks like some religious tract, get the book of ancient writings and translate, “Special today! canned peaches 39 cents” “hmm canned means let go from your work. peaches another name for the female of the species
39 are a form of mathematics no? cents? did they mean sense so as I see it your God will fire you if you fail to pay that lady the money for her smell! Odor is a wonderful thing, it can bring back hidden memories of our childhood, like the white paste used in the 3rd grade, almost edible. then came the little bottles of amber syrup that was dispensed through a flat red rubber nipple, that wasn’t edible. Have no fear the world continues to spin, summer comes then fall and winter. The polar caps melt and the sea rises. Should we start building dykes now? The coastal commission forbids breakwaters because it will disturb people down stream. Don't you just love it?