A Journal of Sorts
"she has got the world to give and he is on his own together they can show each other what they cannot see alone" ~ Tom Snow & Patti Dahlstrom ~ (paraphrased) if wishes were horses, my princess would come and enjoy all of my fractured metaphors and mixed fairy tales... just press puree and head out to play, the soup will be ready some other day... say hay, hay, hey... so what is going on today?... stopped at the library to drop two books into the night slot... the third one due today is still being read, so a few days late it shall be... then I stopped at the post office nearest work and found they had no boxes available and had no waiting list so I've got to go back in on the 9th and 10th and 11th of each month and see if any are available... then I went to the old PO box, right on time too since it was being closed and given away in a few days... paid the bill for another six months... then I went to the bank and got some counter checks and next stop, open the mail and pay some bills... but I forget envelops and stamps, so maybe not... I stopped at the supermarket for food for the place I'm staying at this week and then, finally, here to ook, eat, download mail, and ramble on... Garth not included... and the trick is now trying to stay awake until the veggie lasagna is done so I can turn off the oven, have a piece, and cut up individual portions... somebody call and keep me awake... wishes, huh? J . o O ( zzz... erp... zzz... ssst... zzz... sniff, sniff ) O o . and a couple of hours later, I am stuffed with veggie lasagna and chocolate milk like a balloon at the point of eruption (and I turned the oven off, too)... a little extra cheeses and spices and Stouffer's veggie lasagna is palatable... I probably (probably?) should have stopped with one helping... glub... living on the road writing about life poet, prophet, pauper sitting on a knife the pain of feeling lonely the loss of passing years the anger of being only a victim of my fears but I am free going my own way but am I free? who's to say? living on the road singing about love singer, savior, stupid falling from above the anguish of the lonely the dark of empty years the sorrow of being only a victim of my tears but I am free going my own way but am I free? who's to say? I roll into town see them lining up letting their hair down when I strut my stuff blinded by their cheers lost in the song and the show I don't see them lining up to come along... when I go living on the road hanging on a star dreamer, dimpled devil changing in the car the power of the lonely the presense of the years the folly of being only a victim of the cheers but I am free going my own way but am I free? who's to say? maybe you would trade places maybe that's your dream well people let me tell you it is not all it seems maybe I will find someone stop and settle down someone who might follow me when I leave this town living on the road sharing dreams with you we are much the same who'd believe it's true the feeling of the lonely the truth comes out this year we are all wanting only a friend who's always there and I am free going my own way but who is free? who's to say and I am free going my own way but who is free? who's to say... something from the aging rock star perspective, something I can relate to... though my show is generally put on for an audience of one, the story is the same... sharing the creativity, looking for something more... each one wishing for the other's life, but still not walking through the door... remember?... . o O ( Tommy can you hear me? J ) O o . |
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Doors, The Soft Parade Hearts In Atlantis by Stephen King pollack salad, manicotti, veg lasagna, chips, cookies BIOS Train |
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