The hope for walking the Way of Saint James is fading and not from a depressive sense but rather the practicality of it or, more accurately, the lack of practicality.
We aren't stopped by lack of practicality but we do differentiate that, as much as possible, from being a blazing buffoon. Consideration of The Way was not buffoonery and it would not have been too difficult except insofar as it would not not take long enough. That would have left a huge gap on reaching the end of it which delivered a resounding NOW WHAT. Without a good answer, you're just standing in a puddle blowing bubbles.
The answer is not to assume a bailout and do it anyway. That works for banks but it's the same word with them as it would be with me: blackmail.
Note: don't read any of this as any rejection or lack of appreciation for the support which got me out of trouble the last time. However, I wasn't expecting anything like that and didn't dream or nightmare it would ever come to that. Expectation is the difference.
The old beaters in the crowd know there's no death trip as it's much more a life trip or your totally-depressed ass is probably boxed already. The juniors don't get it because they see everything as a death trip for us because, oh gee, it sure sucks to be you.
Well, Junior Snowball, it sucks to be you since you really don't know shit about anything yet but maybe in time. Maybe you remember Garland Greene from "Con-Air" (Steve Buscemi) as he had some novel ideas of what constitutes crazy ... and all of them were dead-accurate.
That comes to a favorite story in which ...
Some rummy gets a flat tire on his car and pulls it to the side of the road in front of an insane asylum. Some loonie behind the bars watches him as he goes about changing the tire but the loonie doesn't say anything.
The rummy goes along, collecting the lug nuts in the hubcap, just as all good rummies will. There was a problem, tho, as he stupidly kicked the hubcap and this scattered the lug nuts so all of them wound up going down the drainage into the sewer.
From this point, the rummy is screwed and starts wailing, "There's no-one around. What do I do. What do I do??"
The loonie hears his sad lament and calls over to him, "Hey, you can fix this. Take one lug nut from each of the other three wheels. That will give you enough to secure the remaining wheel enough to drive to a mechanic to get more lug nuts."
The rummy looks to him in amazement and asks, "Thank you, man. How did you think of that?"
The loonie only says laconically, "I'm crazy. I'm not fucking stupid."
Note: Garland Greene is the same character who drove through three states wearing the head of one of his victim as a hat. This is one of many reasons we love Steve Buscemi as only he could pull it off portraying a loon like that.
If anyone thinks of me at all, they probably think I'm crazy but the regulars have known me for a long, long time and they know already, oh yeah, he's barking. Others have a different way since it's much easier to call something crazy than deal with it.
The regulars probably see it in a pilgrimage which has been ongoing since at least 2009. It's about discovery rather than lament because you find it now or kiss it good-bye, Dagwood. All of you old beaters know how that goes and all of you are doing something about it. The youngsters lament, oh, oh, it sure sucks to be you.
Well, maybe ... (larfs).
None of us are living some journo cliche of finding ourselves as it's the other way around and we want to find everything else but now we know it's not in a bank, an auto dealer, etc, etc.
The metaphor in Pheia sinking under the Sea is the biggest consideration in launching an observation of the Greek saga. The city was thriving until a blinding flash which maybe happened only in minutes and it collapsed under the Sea because of an earthquake. And maybe you were thinking the San Francisco earthquake was bad but Greece doesn't screw around. The Olympian God of Earthquakes (i.e. Zeus?) doesn't either, apparently.
That metaphor applies in varying degrees to everyone no matter how solid life may seem. Comes a moment of, holy fuck, this simply cannot be happening and everything disintegrates. You have a house and it burns, your kid is killed by a drunk driver, or any of a number of things which you know may happen but you hope never will.
To the extent I have been responsible for anything of that nature and I have, I live with the undying shame from it. Nevertheless, this is not immediately a lament but rather, in a generic sense, it's the Illusion of Gravity. It seems nothing we think is solid really stays that way. We can create the illusion but it doesn't take much to blow a hole in it.
Therefore, if the telling of finding Pontikokastro (i.e. Mouse Castle) and thus the visitation to the thought of Pheia are to have anything beyond historical significance, they need to relate to the Illusion of Gravity but not for the sake of selling my CD.
Note: the CD has been out-of-print for years.
Walking the Way of Saint James becomes the virtual telling of a different aspect of largely the same pilgrimage ... but that doesn't make a road trip. Maybe Cadillac Man thinks, man, what kind of shabby ass road trip is going virtual. That's globetrotter masturbation, man. Let's fuckin' roll!
I do think of a Plan B. I'm always thinkin' of a Plan B. If we can't do that then what can we do. I'm sure Yevette would go for it as she is absolutely bored senseless with online.
There are some conflicts of approach here and there's not a burning need to cut a video to start immediately because I want to make some prep, even maybe making some notes before starting. I refuse to use a script as teleprompters are for linguini politicians who don't know what they believe unless someone else tells them or writes it down for them.
Y'all regulars, you know already.
We aren't stopped by lack of practicality but we do differentiate that, as much as possible, from being a blazing buffoon. Consideration of The Way was not buffoonery and it would not have been too difficult except insofar as it would not not take long enough. That would have left a huge gap on reaching the end of it which delivered a resounding NOW WHAT. Without a good answer, you're just standing in a puddle blowing bubbles.
The answer is not to assume a bailout and do it anyway. That works for banks but it's the same word with them as it would be with me: blackmail.
Note: don't read any of this as any rejection or lack of appreciation for the support which got me out of trouble the last time. However, I wasn't expecting anything like that and didn't dream or nightmare it would ever come to that. Expectation is the difference.
The old beaters in the crowd know there's no death trip as it's much more a life trip or your totally-depressed ass is probably boxed already. The juniors don't get it because they see everything as a death trip for us because, oh gee, it sure sucks to be you.
Well, Junior Snowball, it sucks to be you since you really don't know shit about anything yet but maybe in time. Maybe you remember Garland Greene from "Con-Air" (Steve Buscemi) as he had some novel ideas of what constitutes crazy ... and all of them were dead-accurate.
That comes to a favorite story in which ...
Some rummy gets a flat tire on his car and pulls it to the side of the road in front of an insane asylum. Some loonie behind the bars watches him as he goes about changing the tire but the loonie doesn't say anything.
The rummy goes along, collecting the lug nuts in the hubcap, just as all good rummies will. There was a problem, tho, as he stupidly kicked the hubcap and this scattered the lug nuts so all of them wound up going down the drainage into the sewer.
From this point, the rummy is screwed and starts wailing, "There's no-one around. What do I do. What do I do??"
The loonie hears his sad lament and calls over to him, "Hey, you can fix this. Take one lug nut from each of the other three wheels. That will give you enough to secure the remaining wheel enough to drive to a mechanic to get more lug nuts."
The rummy looks to him in amazement and asks, "Thank you, man. How did you think of that?"
The loonie only says laconically, "I'm crazy. I'm not fucking stupid."
Note: Garland Greene is the same character who drove through three states wearing the head of one of his victim as a hat. This is one of many reasons we love Steve Buscemi as only he could pull it off portraying a loon like that.
If anyone thinks of me at all, they probably think I'm crazy but the regulars have known me for a long, long time and they know already, oh yeah, he's barking. Others have a different way since it's much easier to call something crazy than deal with it.
The regulars probably see it in a pilgrimage which has been ongoing since at least 2009. It's about discovery rather than lament because you find it now or kiss it good-bye, Dagwood. All of you old beaters know how that goes and all of you are doing something about it. The youngsters lament, oh, oh, it sure sucks to be you.
Well, maybe ... (larfs).
None of us are living some journo cliche of finding ourselves as it's the other way around and we want to find everything else but now we know it's not in a bank, an auto dealer, etc, etc.
The metaphor in Pheia sinking under the Sea is the biggest consideration in launching an observation of the Greek saga. The city was thriving until a blinding flash which maybe happened only in minutes and it collapsed under the Sea because of an earthquake. And maybe you were thinking the San Francisco earthquake was bad but Greece doesn't screw around. The Olympian God of Earthquakes (i.e. Zeus?) doesn't either, apparently.
That metaphor applies in varying degrees to everyone no matter how solid life may seem. Comes a moment of, holy fuck, this simply cannot be happening and everything disintegrates. You have a house and it burns, your kid is killed by a drunk driver, or any of a number of things which you know may happen but you hope never will.
To the extent I have been responsible for anything of that nature and I have, I live with the undying shame from it. Nevertheless, this is not immediately a lament but rather, in a generic sense, it's the Illusion of Gravity. It seems nothing we think is solid really stays that way. We can create the illusion but it doesn't take much to blow a hole in it.
Therefore, if the telling of finding Pontikokastro (i.e. Mouse Castle) and thus the visitation to the thought of Pheia are to have anything beyond historical significance, they need to relate to the Illusion of Gravity but not for the sake of selling my CD.
Note: the CD has been out-of-print for years.
Walking the Way of Saint James becomes the virtual telling of a different aspect of largely the same pilgrimage ... but that doesn't make a road trip. Maybe Cadillac Man thinks, man, what kind of shabby ass road trip is going virtual. That's globetrotter masturbation, man. Let's fuckin' roll!
I do think of a Plan B. I'm always thinkin' of a Plan B. If we can't do that then what can we do. I'm sure Yevette would go for it as she is absolutely bored senseless with online.
There are some conflicts of approach here and there's not a burning need to cut a video to start immediately because I want to make some prep, even maybe making some notes before starting. I refuse to use a script as teleprompters are for linguini politicians who don't know what they believe unless someone else tells them or writes it down for them.
Y'all regulars, you know already.
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