“I am he as you are he as you are me
And we are all together” ~ the Beatles
Late on the coffee – sorry. I know that it is possible that you are not drinking it, but it does have an affect on what you are reading. It’s kinda like how a guy or gal on Red Bull can be tailgating you on the freeway at 60 mph, totally oblivious to the laws of physics. I’m not suggesting that I am of any danger to you, but there are those who would postulate otherwise. The postulators likely don’t read EyeYotee anyway, not anymore, which makes it all the easier for me to relax. As hard as I have tried I cannot fathom not trying to be good at something I have committed myself to being good at. Wait . . . . . . ya know, I was fixin’ to get myself into a heap of nonsense there, as if good sense makes any difference anymore, so I will stop and then try to see if mediocre works. I’m afraid it does.
Our opening photo today is of a very big Shepard named Cooper. As big as he is, he likes to cuddle himself into a little igloo shell designed for smaller dogs, but because he is so big he can do as he likes, amid the enforced patterns of the animal shelter which provides him . . . um . . . shelter. It’s not safe out on the street. Anyway, I snapped the photo of Cooper while he lounged in the Senior’s Yard at the shelter. As I snapped away I could hear him muttering, “Danged wheel; it seemed like such a good idea at first” Ya see, his kind, Cooper’s kind, have not evolved nearly so much as we humans have. I reckon they didn’t need to. Ponder that, me hearties.
I’ve not been right since I returned from my nine mile trek along the gorge’s edge, two days ago. Then, I acquired access to the calm and open mind I’d been graced with as a result of my birth. I’m not saying I made a mistake. I’m just saying it is not safe out on the streets, nor in the marketplace. I could get into a rant here, but I’d like to avoid a rant by walking along the edge of doing so. Hear tell a former adversary of mine, a person who treated me like shit for years, and had their functionaries do so as well, has suddenly treated someone else like shit. Go figure. It ain’t politically correct to claim a pattern of behavior. That sort of thing went out of style back in the Reagan era, when political correctness saw it’s advent, when positive thinking became a carnival ride, which all looks like a pattern but it ain’t. Trust me, this is true because I say so. This is where karma comes in. Friggin caustic folks get off the hook, much too easily. If they treat someone like sh*t . . . well . . . that’s just their station in life. No harm no foul. And if there is a foul justice can best be served by applying bias as a rule. Harm? My bad. What I am on about here is that there is someone I’d really like to slap upside the head, in a metaphorical manner, but I can’t because it ain’t a good idea. That puts me on the spot, where anxiety is born. Sometimes good ideas suck. Now is one of those times. Poor me.
Last night I downloaded a recent photo, of Julia Roberts at the Emmys, onto my desktop. When I open my browser window I can see her eyes above the edge of the window. Now, I’ve seen those very eyes up close, maybe four feet away, in person, in realtime, and I liked what I saw, the sight touched my soul. There are those (mostly female) who would disparage me for putting Julia’s eyes up like that. Heck, I once had Taylor Swift up there. It’s the goddess I’m looking at; the Divine Feminine. I have no right to pick and choose who I see it in and who I don’t. Besides, there are numerous women I would like to put up on my desktop, but their photos ain’t available on the internet. There are parameters in life. I must abide.
I know that I have perhaps been obscure in today’s post. Obscurity is one of my guilty pleasures. Taylor Swift is also one of my guilty pleasures. I have more. But I have no more time to write, I must go to work, where I can see Cooper in his nutshell, and where animals are given shelter in an animal shelter. Who knew.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.