“When you have two people who love each other, are happy and gay and really good work is being done by one or both of them, people are drawn to them as surely as migrating birds are drawn at night to a powerful beacon. If the two people were as solidly constructed as the beacon there would be little damage except to the birds. Those who attract people by their happiness and their performance are usually inexperienced. They do not know how not to be overrun and how to go away. They do not always learn about the good, the attractive, the charming, the soon-beloved, the generous, the understanding rich who have no bad qualities and who give each day the quality of a festival and who, when they have passed and taken the nourishment they needed, leave everything deader than the roots of any grass Attila’s horses’ hooves have ever scoured.” ~ Ernest Hemingway
“It is strange, is it not, how an accident of a millimeter here, a millimeter there, makes one face so important. Think about it Elliot, She has two eyes, a nose, a mouth, just like everyone else. It’s all in tiny degrees of placement, such small area of magic to make such a big difference ~ Judith Krantz
Tinnitus is definitely one of the great mysteries of life. Were it not for this mystery I would know the sound of silence. The highway is quiet, the cat sound asleep, no birds singing. As luck would have it the smoke in the air has cleared considerably from the past three days. But the ringing and hissing in my ears ranks high on the WTF scale. I never get used to this stuff. Oh, there! I just heard the first birdsong of the morning: a finch of some sort out the window, at the feeder. Finches provide some of the sweeter sounds you’re gonna hear from the bird world. Tis a workday for me; one of four consecutive days. And tomorrow is Father’s Day to boot. Then Monday is the birthday of someone I hold dear. And I guess I should mention that tomorrow is the Summer Solstice. There is a lot of magic in the air. That’s what I am all about these days. I’ve got to remember the Magic. This beat up body is aching and providing some breathtaking twinges on occasion. No worries, while I am moving constantly at work it all runs smooth. The sore toe. The sore thumb. The crunched up shoulders, kyphotic cervical spine, arthritis, headache . . . am I whining here? Yeh, maybe. But it doesn’t matter. Time to go have fun playing in public. I’ve said before that I work with a great crew. Funny people, happy people. I try not to get sucked too far into that proverbial rabbit hole. First of all, if I am going to go into some dream world I want to have adequate psychedelics in play. No, just kidding. Tis a surreal world we live in now. Who needs drugs?! That was me standing in line at the dispensary yesterday evening. Three people in front of me, respectfully donning masks, six feet apart, that sort of thing. They only allow two patients at a time into the dispensary. When one walks out, when the door to the place opens, that heady aroma wafts out. It’s surreal alright. With the heavy towering clouds and the pervasive smoke, the ambience of cannabis from the building, I could easily have gone apocalyptic. The masks. I could go on, but I must go on to work. It’s all about masks and Magic. Onward.
All is well. Goof gloriously.