“If you choose to battle with me you are going to sing this song, you silly animal.”
My words made no impression upon the beast, but I made a point to paw the earth, snort and try to look intimidating.
Since that didn’t work I told the beast I would be back with a rope and soon he would be domesticated.
He didn’t care so I put Roy on and took a moment to dig around in the trunk because if you say you are going to do something you ought to do it.
Took long enough to move onto a Traveling Wilbury’s song and bam, I found the rope I was looking for.
Sounded my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world, turned around and discovered the beast had declined to test his will against mine.
Some people say the beast didn’t see me as noteworthy and left, but I know things and I know better so I’ll go with my tale.
That is what we do, we go with what we know. You might call yourself a midwesterner and then you realize you lived elsewhere longer than anywhere else.
Sometimes you might argue the point and someone will remind you the children you birthed were born and raised in places like California or Texas and have different ideas about weather, life etc.
Who Are You Now?
Got fond memories of the Traveling Wilburys and what my life was like when the album came out. Easy to remember how much road I saw ahead of me and how many opportunities life presented, seemed endless.
Thirty-two years later more than 50 percent of the Wilburys are gone now and that endless road I used to see seems a little shorter.
Still can’t see where it ends and mostly look forward to finding out but life happens and you start to recognize the choices while still plentiful are constricted in ways they never used to be.
You can argue about whether such constrictions are real or self applied, but still acknowledge that some exist simply because who you are now is not who you once were.
Had a moment not long ago where a wonky digestive system decided to demonstrate that just when you think you have experienced it all you haven’t.
Call it cramps and muscle spasms that made me look for a stick to bite down upon or find something to squeeze.
Doc said not to worry too much about it, pay attention to what I was eating and see if anything repeated. Reasonable advice and given the lack of repetition in conjunction to what I consumed that day I wrote it off as just one of those things.
But to be safe I drew a pentagram upon the floor and engaged in a black magic ceremony to convince the demon that had attacked me to come to the surface.
Since I had gone to the trouble of finding the rope I figured I ought to make use of it.
So if you want to know the rest of the story about the devil that went down to Georgia, don’t ask Paul Harvey, call Josh.
****
That kid who saw open highway is now a man who reluctantly decided he’ll need to check luggage on a business trip because he needs to bring a suit and some miscellaneous items that make a carry-on difficult.
The kid might have said screw it and tried to fold/roll so that he could minimize what he needed to haul around.
Made sense then and makes sense now, but 32 years later I’d rather have to wait to grab a bag and know I should be able to take the suit out of the bag and be reasonably certain it won’t be crazy wrinkled.
You’ll Be Crying
Keyboard on my Mac is giving me all sorts of trouble and making me want to scream. Tried to use that aforementioned black magic to call up the ghost of Steve Jobs.
“You’ll be crying spirit, you’ll be screaming.”
The ghost didn’t care about dealing with me anymore than the beast did so all that I accomplished was a big mess and a starring role in a YouTube video that will never lead to fame, fortune or resolution of the keyboard chaos.
Apple tells me the problem is a known issue and to bring my laptop in. The timing sucks so I don’t know if I can make it happen before I need to flap my wings so I might have to live with it a bit longer.
Unless I can go a different direction and make that digestive demon fix it. Don’t think it works like that, but sometimes a man needs to think outside of the box.
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