Writing requires a certain mood; the mood has struck, alas there is nothing to write home about.
The new job requires next to no travel, so there is not much to report on that front. The car is striking but Orange is the most boring of colors in Southern California.
I have a 110 thousand dollar car to test drive this weekend. The question is where? Make a plan? Lately my best laid plans have dissolved into a hopeless heap of knotted ropes laid upon the deck of a sailboat, best to be thrown overboard in the next rising ocean swell. And the ocean always swells, sooner or later.
Driving through the desert seems like the thing to do. Where the hum of the city fades away and the silence deafens the senses. Watching a sunset on the ancient sun baked rocks. Thinking: Am I much better than these rocks? With all my thoughts and wonders, with what I humor myself to be self-awareness? Am I better than them, when they will still be there to be seen for hundreds of thousands of years beyond me? Weathered and eroded, yet still intact?
Not much humor in all of this, is there? Ok here is a joke: A horse walks into a bar and the bartender says “why the long face?”
And to finish, here is a sailing and nailing song:
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