Category: /General/For a while, I felt there was nothing else
to write about. I felt like my life was a bad
guitar string at a rock and roll concert.
Throw trash on my garden and simmer my
Chicken Alfredo. Left click my mouse and
press the keys. The great song sings but
nothing else does. What does not sing is a
carrot flake in my coffee. Creme cookies let
their centers melt to satisfy the bakers.
They do exist and everything else does too.
A word is a word or a title. A bass is a bass or
a wav. file. A pencil is a pencil or a bitmap. A
boss is a boss, or they are shopping. Where
is Shorty the Russian? Working working-well
sort of. Before he even started, he was not
working. Where is Hazel and Lil? They either
retired or became ill. They were once here
at this place.
Show me the crowds and the masses of
monkeys. They will play so we can laugh.
Feed the creators. Stretch the lines through the
desert. Drop the spoon on the floor, I will pick it
up. It is my favorite one, and I use it for breakfast.
I plunk on my piano with my chapped fingers and
I hear the notes swirling into the air. It all comes
from a creative trance and my sleepy mind.
Everywhere, the cats are jumping upon the couches
of art. You furry and whiskered characters, write
and sing your mournful songs. I will BBQ the steaks
and hand you a plate. Chew the meat well, and learn
to appreciate it. Digest it. You will create energy in
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