There hasn’t been much to scribe these days even though the fact of the matter is that the activity level around here is quite enormous. It’s like information overload where the sheer volume is far too great to give a moment of pause to it all just so that one little tiny piece can escape the vortex and drop like a coin in the vending machine dispensing little treasures for the youngsters. Well, something like that. Perhaps I should just give a general overview of the happenings and thought-bubbles occurring in, on and around the local focal point.
Time Isn’t of the Essence
The funny thing about time is that all moments happen in this precise moment. Past, present and future, the whole enchilada. Wouldn’t it be strange to effect the past based upon future movements? Or how about whatever it is that you are doing now, effecting not only your future but your past as well. And when that train wreck finally comes to a standstill there it is, all laid out pretty-like. There is a connection to whatever you do to all the rest. Hardly anyone tenders the urge to see it that way but for those who don’t busy themselves with all of one’s comings and goings, well then, there comes to be a different way of living or rather, existing.
The Year of Change
It always is. It is what drives one’s experiential delights fraught with time traps. Did you get the humor in that?
Bacon for Breakfast
When a person wakes up there comes to be a hunger. It’s a natural consequence of stepping aside for a spell. It’s like travelling down the highway at high speed, rolling down your window and sticking your head full out, in the middle of summer. Once you retrieve your senses the head comes back in, the window gets rolled up and the resulting bugs get picked out of the teeth. See that natural reaction?
Sometimes I wonder of the condition of the fan which is unlucky enough to become pummeled. Is it up to the task, is it up to the challenge of such volume and more worrisome - will it endure or become inundated and collapse of it’s own purpose?
Since I’ve left that part of interest far behind, I hope that those who relish such adventures get what they bargain for.
“The aliens are coming! The aliens are coming!” It makes me want to effuse the might of madness and do a “Mars Attacks!”
Who gets left behind? It’s a good question, but I digress.
It’s the mother-load. Now I know.