Even on a Saturday in 2019 I can hear myself from the past

Even on a Saturday in 2019 I can hear myself from the past

rectilinear by the hand of man, graceless by the lack of god (little g)

the pitter patter of little feet … smacking the wall. Oh Rumbly, nothing under the sun is new, is it?

for 2 years I’ve been amazed that my folks let me live. I didn’t realize what a shit I was – all the time. guess love can blind you, eh?

we seemed so very happy

A saturday in the sun, though – not out in it yet. We have Sarah & Duck, not Superfriends; Daniel Tiger, not Looney Tunes (which one had the sheep dog? I like that one.) He sits after a few feasts and sleeps playing with Boo’s celly tripod – it makes a really good “clack’ – metal brip halfs along a metal spacer threads with the barrels sliding back and forth – like an abacus but for photographers. He’s happy – and really that’s what we pursue.

the irony however is stunning. See last post.


the boy is at the window in the middle room, I’m at the new (latest) desk spot  trying to grind through some NOS/CTI classes – failing.

the home is a bit of a shambles.

Boo is off doing … well, something. and I’m very happy for that. I was quite not happy earlier.

How the fuck are you and yours? Good I hope.

I glanced every so briefly at the blog – and honestly I need to understand what I’m trying to do better, more. I can make speaking at myself videos – I do like talking, eh?

[[10:12p+27Oct2019= Sunday eve | something to distract me on YouTube (Linus Tech tips) while I get my data re-oriented from As to Ace … it’s only sounding like a tornado hitting a Highland Games festival, right?]]

///Last Modified 2019/03/02///

Leave a Reply