Robins herald the coming of Spring.
But not this one.
This one likes cold weather.
Get some binoculars.
It’s Easter on a busy street.
Cars come and go, blaring music, or not.
But one would ever know there is a church across the street from me.
Attached to the other buildings on the block, it’s radically different architecture, blends in with its neighbors.
The Artist and his dog live next to the church in a building just like it (except for colors, shape and height.)
It’s a busy spot on the street.
The lights go on at night
When gatherings occur
And feelings of love and God are shared.
A warm spot for the soul.
Today is Easter.
The industrial strength restaurant diner door lists hours of service and other stuff.
The door is swung open.
People, coming and going.
Matriarchs and angelic children
Pure of heart and soul – appear.
But they are slow.
They are always late.
Never on time.
The building could be a bloc from Mondrian …
The only reason I know today is Easter is because a sales person from Nordstrom’s accidentally mentioned it.
“Good thing you came today” she said. We’re closed tomorrow.”
Stuff like that.
WordPress is determined to introduce new ways of solving problems because of their dinosaur physique.
They squeeze the solutions out of their users.
And this post keeps popping up as having failed to post.
So at this point, I have no idea how many of these are out there.
But it sure is lots of fun!
So I have no idea whatsoever where this fits in this fomenting imaginary monster …
At some point I recall saying something about patterns emerging, but beyond that, I haven’t got the foggiest as to what’s going on here.
It all began with a tiny accident. Lately, I see pieces that had posted showing the post failed. I didn’t want a double-post, and I didn’t know what to do with it, other than edit what lay ahead of me and publish it.
As for today (space for confessional here) the sky is chronically gray with occasional intense thunderstorms. And it is on this day – today – my marriage ended, according to court filings. (Appropriate forecast there.)
I made it!
One may often wonder about that …
How do you explain it?
To demonstrate an accurate version of it.
What general perceptions exist about the Crazies? Stereotypes?
Well lots of those exist.
They’re really popular.
I couldn’t wait to get to the venue and people-watch. I knew this was going to be an interesting crowd.
It was past 7:30, and the show began at 8. The crowd outside was sparse but sufficient to draw a correlation between them and those who were already inside.
First of all, there were his peers who looked as one might have imagined they looked like: Men with silver pony tails, smokers, and punks – all wrapped into one – and extruded through the eyes of Time …
They were truly a scary sight.
And then there were the women.
Those who may have been the Flower Children of that generation …
But who had sadly changed.
So that was the top tier.
Grandpas and Grandmas.
And then there were the ones (mostly men) who had actually lived lives Dylan’s own creative consciousness had manufactured earlier – when he was still a youth and a prophet. How sacrilege, someone might say. But this has nothing to do with religion – not that kind of stuff, but conditions we face as humans. Dark ones. Of the mind. Of the spirit. Of who and where are we in the grand scheme of Life. And what are the things we must face along the way? Which path to take? And those are the topics of prophets sometimes.
Must’ve been those Minnesota winters …