T3414

I awoke this morning, Saturday, with an idea. I will write today if it “Hair lips the Pope.” Not a particularly compassionate view on the gift the Good Lord gave me, or my wishes for the well-being of the reincarnation of St. Peter the Apostle in our times. I reside in a southern state that prides itself on rugged individualism and a plethora of guiding principles absent of any form of social propriety. Having escaped the stigma of being a “Yankee” through the near thirty-year tenure of my habitation within the borders of that which acknowledges naught but a singular celestial body as its symbol, I find myself embracing such platitudes when I am in need of better words to express my desires. All that is left of my New Yorkedness is a fondness for real pizza, a near maniacal devotion to the only true baseball team…the NY Yankees, and a fervent yearning for financial harm to be done the Steinbrenner clan for firing Joe Torre.

Having said all that, I find myself in a dualistic state. I desperately need to write given the length of time elapsed since last I bedazzled the universe with my prose, or, at least I perceive desperateness and might just be bedazzling myself and not my target audience. I further realize the reader might be saying or thinking at this moment that this fool should get to the freaking point and stop bullshitting. And they would be right.

Well, realistically, I need to get some words down and the other part of the duality I spoke of earlier is that my computer is making a garrulous noise as I type. I recently had the audacity to open the case of my chief link to the world outside to poke around in it. Not a bad thing per se, I do have some acumen within the realm of technology, but it has given me pause to be concerned. I want to post on this blog, and I also wish to work on a piece for my web page, and this amalgamation of 1’s and 0’s needs more attention then I wish to give it this wonderful morning. Additionally, my landlord has a crew of workers outside mowing lawns, weed eating, hammering nails and generally disrupting the literary mastermind sitting at his T3414 E-Machine computer with the scratchy throat. Discretion being the better part of valor, I believe I will go attend to the needs of life as it has apparently decided to inject itself on my poor old ass. Peace out.