Happy Independence Day. Or, for some of you who’ve forgot what today is all about, Happy Firecracker Day! Now please stay out of my neighborhood so I can get some sleep. And while I’m thinking about important documents, that brings me to the main reason I haven’t been around lately. I was rewriting my memoir (yes, again) and have been focused on that for the last six weeks. It’s been a good way to distract myself from all the dumpy doldrums I’ve been in for almost a year.
I’ve been really stuck on what to write on my blogs lately. Both of them. This is very unusual for me because normally my keyboard gets extremely warm from such overuse. But today I suppose I have a lot on my mind because the date is significant. It is/was my father’s birthday, which starts a cluster of other significant dates from now until the fourth of June.
Someone tell please tell how I’m supposed to feel! …Ha ha. I just thought I’d start off a blog post like that. I am becoming more and more out of my mind, after all. Homer Simpson said that once and it always struck me as very funny. But anyway, The Exodus Project installation is now out of the way. And so are several other things, like the book for one — even though I keep sneaking in there to add tidbits before it gets picked out of Dropbox to be edited — but I’m pretty sure I’m finished with all that. I am moving on now. That’s hardly funny. I wanted to be funny.
It’s been something like another ten days of continuous rapid cycling. Somehow, this roller coaster manages to fall into the downward direction more often than not, and yet somehow, I am still hopeful? What’s up with that? I don’t know how that works exactly, but it’s how I’ve been cranking along these past couple of days — knock on wood, lightly anyway. And might as well knock to the beat of Love Rollercoaster, the original one by Ohio Players. That is, the track off the album, not the tamed down single. The difference in the lyrics are like night and day.
Really? A loss for words? Can it be true? Or is this just another way of saying, or hiding the fact, that I am too scared to divulge what’s really going on around here? Perhaps it’s a bit of both. It feels like I have been complaining a lot about being down in the dumps. But I don’t think I’ve truly opened the curtain on just how ugly it’s been.
