April 15, 2008


Crazy -- that is my life lately. Not Patsy Cline Crazy, but padded room hysterics crazy. The weirdness of life continues to envelope me in its warm protective arms, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. I feel safe. I keep looking over my shoulder for Nurse Ratchett. Questions, questions: do I scratch the same spot on my arm repeatedly until it bleeds or do I bounce around the room like Daffy Duck shouting whoohoo, whoohoo? Maybe I should manifest my festering psychosis by sitting in the chair twitching and drooling while insisting I only watch Law and Order reruns? That may be best since that show is on at least one cable channel 24/7. Hell, for all I know it is the rest of you who are the lunatics and I am the sane one. Is it a bad sign when Syd Barrett lyrics start to make sense? Some days I swear I can hear the synapses sizzling as they short out, the smoke and sound echoing in my cranium. Ponder on that imagery for a while, gophers.

How do I reconcile the long, well researched post on the price of oil and the falling dollar that generates a mere whisper of discussion? My fiction is worse than I imagine -- crickets offer louder applause. That is OK, I can take it. I understand -- boring just ain't in. But when I smack the keys at random, enter a few space bars and hits on the return key, I generate the most comments in months. It is all crazy I tell you. or maybe I am just a fucking genius. Blame it on the orange juice. Or maybe the vodka I water it with. Just kidding. Maybe. Look, some bloggers offer you free panties, I can only retaliate by letting you see the train wreck that masquerades as rational thought patterns. Welcome to my brain peoples.

Against my better judgement I will be coaching a baseball team again this year. The foul weather has delayed tryouts and hence the start of the season. The boy is chomping at the bit to get going (or is the right word 'champing'? I know nothing about horses or bits or bridals). There is going to be a real shortage of pitching and catchers in this years' draft. The card draw to determine drafting order will be key. A coach always has to take his own kid first in the draft. Since mine is not a pitcher I am always at a disadvantage. Some teams are getting their second pitcher before I get my first. edit: I know, but this is the crap you get if you want me to post anything at all.

Freeze warnings out for tonight. The neighbor's Magnolia is almost hitting full bloom. I am ready for some warm weather. I am going to hit the library tomorrow. I feel the need to digest a little Hemingway. I might try on a little Ivanhoe as well. There is a clear juxtaposition of styles for you. I suspect I do not have the patience to suffer through Scott any more. I have spent the last hour reading about Ivanhoe, which led me to Robin Hood and that took me to King Arthur. Damn research sucks me in every time.

It is now 1:45 am. I should be in bed. I know I am boring you, I am not real excited myself. Maybe this will help set the mood:

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