Thanks, m'dear. It poses as Haiku with the 5-7-5 but, in every other way, it's really not.
Funny you should mention beads. I had just spent what seemed like way too much time sorting through the wooden ones at W-Mart this morning.
The last time I was there, I had trouble finding them so the kid who's apparently in charge of the Bead Department showed me where they were.
Then he proceeds to give an exhaustive rundown of the various styles, assortments, quantities, and manufacturing origins.
There was a lady nearby listening to all of this and when I broke in to say that I wasn't really using them in any sort of normal way, she totally froze in anticipation of what might come out of my mouth next.
I immediately realized that what I had said might have been subject to misinterpretation, but before I could say another word, Bead Boy jumped in with, "So, do I dare ask WHAT you intend to use them for?"
I kid you not, those were his exact words. And, as I think about it now, I realize that, instead of trying to de-fuse the situation, I should've, well, strung him along. So to speak.
Him and Mrs. "You'll-Never-Guess-What-This-Creepy-Guy-In-A-Mossy-Oak-Shirt-Said-At-WalMart-Today."
You know, something like, "Wellll, I actually string them on the kind of pull-cord you have on a power lawn mower. I put the smallest one on first and then the next biggest and the next biggest, until I'm almost at the end where I slide on the tee-handle and knot it off..."
(I sincerely hope you're laughing your backside off, by this time, or I'm in big trouble, lol.)
Instead, I gave the truthful, and totally pedestrian answer that, well, I'd bought some small metal files to use in my shop and they didn't come with handles so I was looking for something to cover the sharp end of the tang with.
He said, "Oh," having no idea what a tang was other than the orange-flavored beverage the Astronauts supposedly took with them on those fake lunar landings that he'd heard were staged back in the 1960s.
And "Mrs. Eavesdropper"--we'll call her that to avoid having to re-type all those dang hyphens--let out a derisive Pfft as she turned back to the sequin selection, her chance at a really outrageous text to her BFF having come to naught.
If you're still with me, I truly do appreciate your comment and apologize for punishing your kindness with another long-winded response...
Hope you're having a good, maybe even restful, day...
Glad to hear you're getting some much-needed rest. And that you got a laugh out of my latest misadventure. Seriously, IDK how I find these squirrely individuals but they seem to be waitin' out there for, you know, the "Old Acorn," lol...
In the part of the city where I used to live, that's a very real possibility. Actually, it's like that everywhere in the city except in the newly "gentrified" parts of the downtown...
Cities scare me, I've lived in the country too long I guess. Too used to the privacy, though the silence can be deafening.
Currently dreaming of buying an RV and living on the road for a while. Once bought a school bus for that purpose but ended up selling it to a couple of lesbians headed to CA. I wonder if they got there? There's a story there though I haven't been writing much.
Need a driver, but must be willing to wear tie dye. Heh heh
Thank you for tolerating my ramblings. I'll always love you for that.
When you mentioned the school bus, I immediately thought of Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters in Tom Wolfe's "Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test."
Not sure if I ever finished the book or if it just sort of merged with or was overtaken by my own experience of the '60s. Became a sort of countercultural echo of what that friend of mine said about a certain movie and his experience in the 'Nam. You know, the one who said, "I've read the book, don't need to see the movie."
Only, in my case, didn't need to read the book, was in the movie. Or however that might work. Although, in the end, it was like Neal Cassady said, "You're either on the bus or off the bus," and I thought I'd gotten off of it.
Thing is, what we don't realize at the time, once you've been on the bus, that experience has a half-life that lives on, gives off its energy, irradiates everything for a long time afterwards.
I thought I'd probably outlived it by now, but your comment made me think about the story that I'd started writing afterwards.
That and the questions: is it time and is there time?
I'm sitting here thinking that in our secret hearts we are still on the bus. I feel it because I can speak freely with you and I can't and don't with those who never took the ride.
There is always time and the time is any time the spirit says YES!
In a galaxy far far away two aging free spirits dressed in mossy oak tie dye load up a barely road worthy RV, and guided only by a map and their shared love of the written word head for the inter-galactic equivalent of Key West, the first of many literary related destinations. Because, ya know, they're gonna write a book about their adventures.
Then these lyrics pop up in my head: Time it was And what a time it was, it was A time of innocence A time of confidences
Long ago it must be I have a photograph Preserve your memories They're all that's left you. ---- Tis dreams that give life it's flavor, never stop dreaming. Read the book. Write your story. Keep on truckin'
It's a little after 4:30 AM and, having just read your comment, I'm sitting here a bit breathless. Feel like I had just sprinted, maybe, to catch up with the bus.
Just now, I negotiated the stairs to get to the kitchen for a glass of water which means that I'm probably up for the day. And on my way down, I was thinking, "Fuck the Steinbeck bio, it's a drag anyway; I'm gonna read "Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test!"
And then I thought... I thought... it's a really long road back there, so many people, so many faces, the 40-mile rides in the windowless van, the bumping, jolting ride over the last half mile of dirt lane leading up to the farm. The ecstatic leap into bright sunlight on much younger legs. The bright, tie-dyed sunrise hung at the gable end of an ancient carriage house...
The last couple of years, I'd gotten in the habit of saying that I've got "one more fight and one more flight left in me."
But maybe what I have left in me is one more long, long ride in a "barely road-worthy RV."
Thanks for reminding me that there are still other, hopefully better, possibilities...
You know, don't you I write that for me as much as for you, I do so want to believe there is one more road trip left for me and for you; that dreams can still come true and love will change the world, cause when I talk to you it seems the road back is just waiting for that first step to open the box of memories and make them real again. I need to believe because if I don't the way forward seems even more frightening and lonely.
Fuck Steinbeck I never liked him...lol But, damn I think I gave my copy of "...Acid Test" to my grandson.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2018-05-09 05:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-05-09 08:52 pm (UTC)Funny you should mention beads. I had just spent what seemed like way too much time sorting through the wooden ones at W-Mart this morning.
The last time I was there, I had trouble finding them so the kid who's apparently in charge of the Bead Department showed me where they were.
Then he proceeds to give an exhaustive rundown of the various styles, assortments, quantities, and manufacturing origins.
There was a lady nearby listening to all of this and when I broke in to say that I wasn't really using them in any sort of normal way, she totally froze in anticipation of what might come out of my mouth next.
I immediately realized that what I had said might have been subject to misinterpretation, but before I could say another word, Bead Boy jumped in with, "So, do I dare ask WHAT you intend to use them for?"
I kid you not, those were his exact words. And, as I think about it now, I realize that, instead of trying to de-fuse the situation, I should've, well, strung him along. So to speak.
Him and Mrs. "You'll-Never-Guess-What-This-Creepy-Guy-In-A-Mossy-Oak-Shirt-Said-At-WalMart-Today."
You know, something like, "Wellll, I actually string them on the kind of pull-cord you have on a power lawn mower. I put the smallest one on first and then the next biggest and the next biggest, until I'm almost at the end where I slide on the tee-handle and knot it off..."
(I sincerely hope you're laughing your backside off, by this time, or I'm in big trouble, lol.)
Instead, I gave the truthful, and totally pedestrian answer that, well, I'd bought some small metal files to use in my shop and they didn't come with handles so I was looking for something to cover the sharp end of the tang with.
He said, "Oh," having no idea what a tang was other than the orange-flavored beverage the Astronauts supposedly took with them on those fake lunar landings that he'd heard were staged back in the 1960s.
And "Mrs. Eavesdropper"--we'll call her that to avoid having to re-type all those dang hyphens--let out a derisive Pfft as she turned back to the sequin selection, her chance at a really outrageous text to her BFF having come to naught.
If you're still with me, I truly do appreciate your comment and apologize for punishing your kindness with another long-winded response...
Hope you're having a good, maybe even restful, day...
no subject
Date: 2018-05-10 06:16 pm (UTC)Not only funny but informative my mossy oak friend, I can add new um depth and meaning to the word tang.
Slept 16 hrs yesterday, and continue to rest today. Thanks for the laughter you old acorn, you.
no subject
Date: 2018-05-10 10:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-05-11 03:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-05-11 11:41 am (UTC)Thank goodness you're around to explain my life to me, lol...
no subject
Date: 2018-05-11 11:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-05-11 01:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-05-11 02:25 pm (UTC)Currently dreaming of buying an RV and living on the road for a while. Once bought a school bus for that purpose but ended up selling it to a couple of lesbians headed to CA. I wonder if they got there? There's a story there though I haven't been writing much.
Need a driver, but must be willing to wear tie dye. Heh heh
Thank you for tolerating my ramblings. I'll always love you for that.
no subject
Date: 2018-05-12 02:29 am (UTC)Not sure if I ever finished the book or if it just sort of merged with or was overtaken by my own experience of the '60s. Became a sort of countercultural echo of what that friend of mine said about a certain movie and his experience in the 'Nam. You know, the one who said, "I've read the book, don't need to see the movie."
Only, in my case, didn't need to read the book, was in the movie. Or however that might work. Although, in the end, it was like Neal Cassady said, "You're either on the bus or off the bus," and I thought I'd gotten off of it.
Thing is, what we don't realize at the time, once you've been on the bus, that experience has a half-life that lives on, gives off its energy, irradiates everything for a long time afterwards.
I thought I'd probably outlived it by now, but your comment made me think about the story that I'd started writing afterwards.
That and the questions: is it time and is there time?
Maybe I'll just go back and read the book...
no subject
Date: 2018-05-12 01:27 pm (UTC)There is always time and the time is any time the spirit says YES!
In a galaxy far far away two aging free spirits dressed in mossy oak tie dye load up a barely road worthy RV, and guided only by a map and their shared love of the written word head for the inter-galactic equivalent of Key West, the first of many literary related destinations. Because, ya know, they're gonna write a book about their adventures.
Then these lyrics pop up in my head:
Time it was
And what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence
A time of confidences
Long ago it must be
I have a photograph
Preserve your memories
They're all that's left you.
----
Tis dreams that give life it's flavor, never stop dreaming. Read the book. Write your story. Keep on truckin'
Always,
E
no subject
Date: 2018-05-13 09:08 am (UTC)Just now, I negotiated the stairs to get to the kitchen for a glass of water which means that I'm probably up for the day. And on my way down, I was thinking, "Fuck the Steinbeck bio, it's a drag anyway; I'm gonna read "Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test!"
And then I thought... I thought... it's a really long road back there, so many people, so many faces, the 40-mile rides in the windowless van, the bumping, jolting ride over the last half mile of dirt lane leading up to the farm. The ecstatic leap into bright sunlight on much younger legs. The bright, tie-dyed sunrise hung at the gable end of an ancient carriage house...
The last couple of years, I'd gotten in the habit of saying that I've got "one more fight and one more flight left in me."
But maybe what I have left in me is one more long, long ride in a "barely road-worthy RV."
Thanks for reminding me that there are still other, hopefully better, possibilities...
My best to you, dear E,
L
no subject
Date: 2018-05-13 11:57 am (UTC)Fuck Steinbeck I never liked him...lol But, damn I think I gave my copy of "...Acid Test" to my grandson.
Have a beautiful day bro
E