It’s Raining Pennies

Seven thirty.

I’m feeling kind of grumpy this morning. Outside it’s a cloudy twilight before the dawn. I half wish I could skip the store today because of the person who works on weekends. But we all have to get along with each other. I feel like a fish out of water, like Hotspur or like Rip Van Winkle, trying to survive in a world that has changed. The world doesn’t really speak my language. It’s similar to talking Middle English in the modern day: misunderstanding on both sides… Aesop just gazed questioningly at my shopping bag, looking for chicken strips. Meanwhile, the rain has stopped until again this afternoon, so I should be able to get to the market okay. The grumpy mood is improving as I anticipate a Snapple tea. It might clear my head somewhat.

Eight thirty. The forecasters made a mistake, for it’s raining right now and the backyard is gloomy dark. I’m sitting it out and then I’ll make my trip… The music I hear is “Kicker” from Chick Corea. At one point in my life I wanted to be like John Patitucci on bass guitar, but no one in Eugene seemed to be doing jazz fusion. I even got myself a beautiful Yamaha 5 string bass and was burning to play it with someone else. It didn’t pan out and two years later I sold it to a music student at the university. I heard that he used that bass all through his schooling.

Nine thirty. I only got rained on going one way, so my timing was pretty good. The raspberry tea tasted fab, and Aesop got a peanut butter cookie. If you can’t always get what you want, sometimes you get what you need, like pennies from heaven. 



“Knowledgeability.” I opened Apple Notes and typed this word in for spelling accuracy. A funny kind of word: take “knowledge” plus “ability” and jam them together. It came up in my blank book because I was writing of how my former band mates paid me a compliment on my knowledge of music and other things: and yet I wasn’t sure how to spell this simple word. Was I supposed to omit the “e” in “knowledge” before adding “ability?” Sometimes the purest simplicity escapes me, like the color of a person’s eyes or even the shirt they are wearing. Call me obtuse. Call me absentminded. 

Follow the Link

Eight forty.

The weather today will be much like yesterday, sunny and around 90 degrees… After seeing my friend’s total misinterpretation of a Joyce story, I feel compelled to comment on how sexless our society is nowadays. I believe it started with George Bush and his policy of abstinence being the best contraceptive. That was 15 years ago, but it seems we never recovered from his attitude. And then there was the general American obsession with dogs, as if they could be more important than human relationships. Not to mention the fact that we neuter and spay them without giving it a thought… I just gave Aesop his breakfast. It’s an odd thing to consider the sterilization of humanity over the last two decades. And it’s a wearisome uphill battle to try to remedy the situation. It makes me want to print a story like “Altar of the Dead” by Henry James a billion times over for everyone to see. People can probably look it up on Project Gutenberg anyway.

Hopefully you can read this story without missing the irony. If you decide to go ahead with it, know that you’re in good hands. 

Folly Speaks

Quarter after one in the morning.

I got a little bit of sleep since nine o’clock tonight, and kept dreaming of a book by Erasmus called The Praise of Folly. I may never learn the significance of this book to me. It was part of the old literary canon, now all but obsolete, making me feel like an anachronism. In fact, the book somewhere describes the silliness of mistimed wisdom, which my life seems to epitomize. But even the existence of an anachronism must have some kind of a purpose, or else I could just stop writing, get a mindless job, dissipate my brain away, and perish into obscurity. Would any sort of God be pleased if I spit in my own face and just gave up my projects? I’ve got 583 followers on WordPress, acquired over four and a half years. Some bloggers have more than ten thousand followers. I don’t know how they do it. I’m only a tiny blip on the website’s radar, yet I still persist to chuck up nuggets of misplaced wisdom. It’s almost as if I were a mummy brought back to life to explain the ways of antiquity. Maybe that’s my task in life: to be an archivist of old stuff, bringing up the rear of the process of history, crystallizing life’s events to perfection for all posterity.

And to do it with beauty and style.