Freewrite

Bigotry and hockey and baseless allegations from knuckleheads sully an otherwise restful evening. Sanity's askings are too much for some but those thoughts never darken me. Darkened mornings and cooler temperatures herald the true end of another summer and the lingering lie of fall before winter arrives. Snowfalls and slush piles and salted driveways. Yech. Unwritten novels fill my mind, yearning to be written but fall short of reaching the pen. Where lies that disconnect? Maybe my fingers won't reach. Reach for the sky, and you can fly even with no legs and be a real dogsbody. Reach for the stars or you'll never leave the ground. Reach for the last beer and risk a serious thumping. Thumper really was an annoying little furball. Fur flies but only as part of the squirrell. Does anyone know what a squirrel, a sponge and a starfish have in common? Me either, but they all seem to be very happy together. Go figure. Weekday morning sleep-ins and spousal snuggles wipe away the stress and madness of the work week...no better perscription exists. Was Shakespeare really an existentialist? To be or not to be? If not to be, then what? What to ask, what to say, how to love and to be loved. Loving the one you're with might irk the one you love and is generally a poor move. Be more worthy. Images and words from a theatre of dreams keep pulling me under but I do love taking the time. ....and time and time again. Time never waits and time never ends.

(See what 90's prog rock does to me in the mornings? No Hypnerotomachia here, folks...no Rule of Four. I just want to see the flow of babble....I must be wanting a career in Politics)