Saturday, June 4, 2022

Happy Saturday

June. Blossoms. Oh my dear.

I might have nearly found a rhythm, a chang clang, rail splitting, spiritual singalong whereby I release my meme collection back into the cloud farm, a bit at a time. For now.

I say the word collection. It is a heap; a hoard, there is no order and no search function. I am releasing my, seemingly compulsive, need to grab at everything as it goes by. Google does a far better job of keeping track of these things anyway. And can’t I find something better to do with the time? My time? Honestly. Can’t I?

It’s a start.

Also, it finally occurs to me that I do not need to produce another book of poetry - at the moment. What I need is to get the poems off the computer into a collection. Another collection. This time with names.

So I grabbed another blog name, or three, recently. 

Here now, something rather than nothing.

The other night at a dinner party someone thought perhaps I might’ve taught theater. 

Pat laughed uproariously. I don’t know why. Doctor, professor; we’ve both heard it before. 

Once an older lady stopped me in Walgreens to help her make a selection of some sort. I told her I didn’t work there. She said well you certainly look smart.

I still like it every time.

The sum total of my accolades is being mistaken for someone else.

The bag lady character in Lily Tomlin‘s one-woman show in the 80s, perhaps, was sitting wistfully on the curb with her chin in her palm. 

“I always wanted to be somebody. I should’ve been more specific.“

Here, for you. Smile until you feel your breath.




Happy Saturday.


June 4, 2022

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