See ya later crocagator!

Nobody's listening anyway, so I might as well make a racket. It's been months since sense had much to say, but this time of year stirs the leaves all around the teacup. Family matters are settled, the cat disappeared, we're an international destination with future potential.  Why? Because we have Creme Brulee donuts with their very own plastic vial of Cointreau.  If you think that sounds elitist you may be right. That and the vintage guitar shop next to the record shop next to the microbrew pub. Hell yes I like it here.
But that's not why I'm writing this post. It's to say to one and to all that the most important (does that sound elitist?) music reissue box set collection of all time is upon us. It is titled: Bob Dylan and The Band: The Basement Tapes Complete.  It is American like apples, clean water, firewood and bicycles.
Just listen to the damn thing, all 138 tracks then take a walk outside. You will be better.

Led Zeppelin vs Grumpy Cat

The Eve Of Day, Or What's For Breakfast.

One can always ask, and the question remains. The point is not the answer, but what I can do better. Every life looks like your own when the bubble surrounds you, but if you're lucky it will explode. When that happens, the world is colder on both hands, but the way becomes more itself and less oneself.  The garden path is an old analogy to the way of life, and not a bad one.  Where we are upon it is less the point as to how the garden grows.
Last year I sat about the path and kept it clean, and that was fine. Now the time is right for digging in the dirt. Nobody needs to see but the bees, and they are not interested.
Improvisation is what is needed, because the learned way becomes the hard way. I know this, and perhaps nothing more. Tomorrow I'll have a chance of making up something new. Bless the next day!