“So now you’re going to keep going out with her for spite?”

I had an incident while on break at work today.  It involved a bee.  I’ve been stung before (as a kid.)  It was more alarming than painful.  I’m not allergic.   However, for some reason I behave as if being stung by a bee will instantly lead to my painful death.  The bee buzzed close to my ear, then hovered near my head.  That was all the signal I needed.

I ran to escape, and it followed me!  I changed direction.  Still in my space!  So I started zig-zagging.  Any coolness cred I once had is now history.  (It probably wasn’t much.)  My co-workers began shouting advice.  “Stand still!”  “Swat it!”  “Something something Periscope!”  Sigh.  It finally flew off without stinging me.  It must have decided my offense wasn’t severe enough to die over.

I’d like to think it was messing with me to amuse its friends.  “Hey Ethan, see that human over there?  Go give her a flyby, then stick to her like glue.”  Followed by Ethan and friends laughing.  “Look at her go!  This is so going on BeeBook!”  Okay, I’ll stop.  You’re welcome.  🙃  We have four mini trampolines at work now.  I squeed when I saw them.

It took so much willpower to refrain from lining them up and experimenting.  Musical mini trampolines, anyone?  I’m going to Sky Zone this weekend to work out my temptations.  It would be embarrassing to get fired from a job over mini trampoline shenanigans.  I went to the park near where I grew up yesterday.  I was going to put an ad in the paper to give violin lessons, but it requires talking on the phone, (which irks me in 2017.)  So I made a sign, printed out some contact cards, and headed out.

 

I played for an hour, and several people took a card.  I have two students so far.  Yay.  A woman asked me if I teach adults, and I told her to take my card.  It never crossed my mind to teach adults.  She emailed me already.  We’re meeting Thursday.  I’m excited.  She’s probably in her fifties.  She asked how long I’ve been playing, and fluffed my ego a bit.  She has beautiful hands.  I think she’s going to fall in love with the violin.

I’m off to visit our new dog.  Tallulah is staying with a friend of M’s while he’s away.  They have a huge backyard and a husky for her to play with.  I’m a little jealous.

“Jerry , she looks exactly like you.”

I didn’t like the last design, so I changed it.  (Sorry for not giving advanced warning.)  I’m also working on an additional blog, but it’s nowhere near ready for sharing.  I’ve decided to focus more on my journey with autism on this blog, and the other will center on my creative interests.  I’ll share the URL when I finish adding a bit of content.  The new blog will include sharing what I’ve learned from my favorite authors, musicians, and artists.  Stevie Nicks, J.K. Rowling, John Irving, Stephen King, and Brandon Sanderson, for example.

With M. gone, I caught myself gravitating back to coding marathons.  I’ve spent enough of my life writing code in my free time.  I’m ready to move on.  I’m happier when I’m creating.  While coding is creating, it’s a solitary endeavor that mainly takes place inside my head.  Instead, I’d rather create music, art, and poetry with my hands, too.  I also want to tell a story, but not as a written novel.  (I’m too palilalia prone.)  I want to engage as many senses as possible to make the telling of my story accurate to my imagining.

Stevie Nicks taught me the desire to create is something to embrace and build my life around.  It doesn’t need to support me financially to be worthy of the center of my focus.  Stevie Nicks stated more than once if she were a waitress or cleaning woman, she’d still be writing songs.  There’s a connection between creativity and joy.  (I very much want to confer with my AI and figure out a way to define it, but I’m going to practice my guitar later instead.)

I did try to figure out the killer bass riff in Charlie Puth’s song, Attention.  Mission not accomplished.  Yet.  I like the song so much I keep enjoying it (singing it) instead of isolating the bass.  Plus, it’s complex.  When I do finally isolate it, my version will be simplified.  I’ll be glad when I’m skilled enough to move up to a fretless 5 string electric bass.  For now, I’m just amused at my audacity, considering my current skill level.  I’m big on aiming high but keeping it real.  It’ll definitely be previously owned.

Tomorrow I’m going to fill two big boxes with stuff I don’t want anymore.  Then I’m going to take them to my underground parking space.  Two boxes a day until I stop feeling overwhelmed by stuff.  I’m going to put a sign on the boxes informing my neighbors they’re welcome to take what they want.  I’ll leave it for a week, then whatever remains is going to the dump.  The small business that comes to haul it away also sorts through for things that can be donated before dumping.  Yay.  I was their first customer and like their service.

I’m parting with most of my Star Wars memorabilia in this purge.  It’s weird, but I’m not the least bit upset to see it go.  I guess I’m done with Star Wars stuff.  Heh.  (If someone told me five years ago I would be throwing away most of my Star Wars stuff, I’d think they were being ridic.)  I’m going to photograph it before I toss it, though.  I’ve decided owning digital photos of stuff I like and storing them in the cloud is ideal.  It turned out to be a fantastic move as I now possess photos of wicked cool cars I’ll never buy, maintain, store, drive or ride in.  Perfect.  🙃  I’m off to practice.

“It hit her in the head!”

It’s been an awesome day.  No other way to look at it.  I’ve been creating riffs on my acoustic guitar and they’ve just been flowing out of me.  Each one inspired by mistakes I made when trying to copy professional guitarists.  So I guess simplified riffs.  I’m a rhythm guitarist because it’s perfect for me.  (Even when I play RockBand 4 on my PS4, I freeze on the solos.)

I’m a rhythm drummer, too.  I can’t even air drum with Phil Collins during his epic solo for In the Air Tonight.  My mind wanders too easily, or something.  When I practice drumming with music now, I have to pick songs I’ve never heard.  I can’t play along with Fleetwood Mac for an entire song because I start listening to Mick Fleetwood and the singing, etc. instead of playing in sync.  I end up sitting there holding the sticks as if I’m about to strike and listening to the song.

I’ve worn through my third pair of gloves.  I’ve been using the fake leather ones by Ahead.  I see duct tape in my future (since they’re $40 a pair.)  I played along with a bunch of country songs since I don’t listen to country music.  The only time I did was when I had a roommate in the Army who did.  She introduced me to Brooks and Dunn, Trisha Yearwood, Garth Brooks, etc.  I like country music.  I just like rock more.  I love the song, What If by Kane Brown ft. Lauren Alaina.

I like Slow Hands by Niall Horan, too.  I love his voice.  And something new from Garth Brooks.  I have a fantastic memory from a pub in the middle of nowhere in southern Germany.  I was with a small group of soldiers (out of uniform) and soon after we entered, Friends in Low Places came on the jukebox.  Every person in there sang along (loudly) in English, word for word, (of course I joined in.)  It was like a hug from Germany.  We were worried nobody would admit to speaking English and were trying to remember our newly acquired (and limited) German.

I installed the first half of my Halloween decorations last night.  It’s my creepy window.  A backlit woman screaming with eyes bugging out, and a ghoulish looking dude with heavy facial features and a greenish hue.  It looks wicked at night from the outside.  During the daytime, it looks awesome from the inside.  I forgot to look from the street on my way to work, so I’m not sure how well it looks from a distance.  I have a projector and some FX material to project horrors onto other windows, or to create them holographically by draping it over something or hanging it from the ceiling.

I have a killer sinus headache that won’t go away (despite my doing nothing about it.)  😂 I’m debating on a neti pot (it always ends in tears,) or a heating pad.  Or some wasabi sauce… That might work…  I’m off to determine the most fun method of ridding myself of this nagging pain.  Then I can continue reading, Sleeping Beauties, by Owen and Stephen King.  Yay.

“And now, it’s payback time. Pottery Barn is in for a world of hurt.”

I’m scattered today.  I may as well apologize now.  This series of ramblings is going to be a doozy, I can already tell.  I finished reading Reckless:  My Life as a Pretender, by Chrissie Hynde.  I loved it.  I stayed up all night reading it.  I had to take lots of breaks to look up colloquialisms from her youth.  (I can speak 1960’s now.)  I took notes because I’ve never heard of a lot of bands she mentioned, but will rectify that situation soon.  I know a lot more about drugs, now.

I didn’t know much about Chrissie Hynde before reading the book.  I knew she was cool, and I could easily conjure her image and voice in my mind.  That about covers it.  When I found out she was touring with Stevie Nicks, I was ecstatic.  I saw some footage uploaded to YouTube by fans, (thanks!)  The crowds were unbelievably humongous.  Holy shiitake mushrooms, Batman!

The book kicked me in the nuts twice.  The first time, because Chrissie Hynde described a collection as Aspergian, the second because she has no idea how wonderful and brilliant she is. I got past the first kick instantly because she was descriptive, not mean.  No malice, no foul.  The second took longer because it reminded me of how big an asshole I was back when I thought my “superior” skill at learning from books, the only taught method for both our generations, made me awesome.

I’ve since learned the difference between awesome and asshole.  You’re welcome.  😂  I feel guilty because I know my former superiority complex has a lot to do with the lack of confidence I see in many brilliant people who were told they weren’t by influential people in their world.  And worse, because all my book learnin’ doesn’t seem to help me convince them they’re so much more than they’ve been led to believe.  Sigh.

Someone who works in a different office but shares the break area informed me my Ph.D. in Software Engineering is no achievement.  I laughed (pretty hard.)  Then I said, “I know, but I have a brown vagina.”  Then he laughed and said, “Expensive liability insurance.”  (That’s precisely when it stopped being funny to me.)  I appreciate him for comprehending out loud, though.

It occurred to me I have things in common with Chrissie Hynde.  Such as, we both knew what we wanted at a young age, and went for it.  We also both know that long, agonizing moment where we first recognize we’re about to suffer a fate worse than we ever imagined.  Her books’ content covered exactly what I would have asked her, with detail in all the right places, and that just blows my mind.  I read some reviews on Amazon and was surprised to see comments by fans who wanted tabloid content and were disappointed to get her history instead.

(As a recovering asshole, I can’t help but think…  Autobiography:  An account of a person’s life written by that person.)  So anyway, I also noted Chrissie Hynde can draw, created her own style, and is the boss.  So now I know she’s cool, a survivor, a good descriptive writer, and a vulnerable human, living her life out loud despite it.  I also know she’s the mum of two young women, and she’s a 🇬🇧 Londoner.  (She doesn’t fake the accent like Madonna.  Heh.  I suspect Madonna does it because it’s hilarious.  What Madonna may lack in raw musical talent, she more than makes up for in music industry acumen.  Come at me. 🙃)

I’m just kidding, don’t come at me, I’ve already cried twice today, and I’m a wee bit dehydrated.  😂😂  (Nothing to blog home about, just a typical day in the life.)  We moved M’s dresser and a chair into my apartment.  We’re going to take this s.l.o.w.l.y.  So slowly I don’t really notice the change, (and freak out because he’s in my space, and he’s this person I can’t ignore because it would hurt him and I don’t want to hurt him, and it will be hard until it’s not, then it’ll be the new normal, and the planet will continue hurling through space… Whew, almost talked me into panicking!)  I’m off to run in the moonlight with my new dog.  Yay.  🐕

Honey… Aren’t we going to the Poconos next Friday?

Today flew by.  We have a new code monkey at work.  My boss took my advice and hired a disabled veteran.  I helped her get oriented this morning.  I’ve seen her at the VA a few times and am glad to have another woman at work.  I hate being the token anything, but if I had to pick, I’d rather be the token black person than the token woman.

Someone said something ridiculous about Taylor Swift today.  She’s never been on my radar, but I’ve seen her perform on TV.  I forget which awards, but she brought it.  I remember thinking she was so young, and would probably have a long career.

The comment kinda pissed me off, so I asked the commenter if Taylor Swift didn’t return his text message.  He looked at me like *I* was the one being ridic.  So I asked again, stating we should get to the bottom of what Taylor Swift did to him to make him say such a thing.

Turns out, she didn’t do shit to him, (he’s never even met her.)  I leaned over and Googled her on his terminal.  Her latest video popped up, and I clicked play.  It’s a song titled, Look What You Made Me Do.  Before long, everyone was gathered around watching.  (Music videos and car accidents, eh?)

When it finished, I told him she doesn’t need me to defend her.  I don’t even try to interpret music videos, but I think Taylor Swift pulled an 8-Mile move:  Self-deprecation, wit, and fierceness.  (Plus, it has a nice beat, and you can dance to it.)  I bought the song and will get the album when it comes out.  She’s on my radar now.

I haven’t bought music by someone so young in ages.  Oh, wait.  I forgot about Justin Beiber.  I like his voice.  Come at me.  😂  I saw an interview of Chrissie Hynde (The Pretenders) and Stevie Nicks on Youtube earlier.  (It’s from an Austrailian station, I think.)  They’re touring together!  People who take pictures and video at concerts:  Please upload to YouTube.  Thank you!

There’s a part of the interview that mentions Chrissie Hynde’s book.  She’s a survivor.  Some survivors who read her biography were upset by how she told her story.  She said, “They can go fuck themselves.”  It made me cheer for her.  I’m so glad she didn’t let them invalidate her.

Someone did that to me once, but I was too stunned to respond.  I just sat there and felt the tears roll down my cheeks.  It was one of those upsets that sticks around long after the tears are dry.  When Chrissie Hynde said that, I stood up and said, “Yeah!”  Guess what?  It no longer bothers me.  I just needed to see another woman take back her power.  I’m glad it was such a cool lady.

You got a problem with paba?

The Depression Monster is kicking my ass.  I’m doing surprisingly well, despite.  Well, in that I’m too numb for it to touch my spirit.  The buffer has always existed, but it’s only recently occurred why.  I’m delighted by this new insight.  I’ve decided to accept it without analyzing it (to death.)  My understanding is enough.  How rare.  But I don’t dare linger here.  The brain zaps from Prozac withdrawal are happening every few moments, now.  It feels a lot like being excessively high on cannabis.  It’s almost out of me forever.  Yay.

I’m glad I went on the marijuana tour last year, or this would probably freak me out.  (Okay, definitely.)  I was awed by the amount of weed I was able to consume without consequences during the tour.  I watched the younger tourists consume far more simultaneously, also without repercussion.  It had the intended effect of eliminating rote fears.  Something about cannabis works the same way Prozac does on my brain.  Does this mean I’m going to replace Prozac with pot?  Nope.   😂  Fuck drugs.

While I had no compunction with legally consuming in the past, I’ve grown since.  People who were off my radar then are now present in my world, and their influence is intense.  I could legally smoke a joint in front of both Michelle Obama and Lisa Bloom (my imaginary personal life coaches) without feeling like I was hovering over a pit of doom.  I couldn’t do it in front of  Stevie Nicks, though.  I can’t even do it knowing Stevie Nicks exists.  So here we are.  Post pot life.  I’m glad I experimented, but fuck feeling like I’m hovering over a pit of doom just to get high.

It’s not even ironic.  Stevie Nicks specifically said to avoid cocaine, bourbon, and weed because she used the hell out of them, and it almost killed her.  She added Klonopin to the list of never do’s, too, stating it was the worst of them.  Through watching her documentary DVD’s and the interviews on YouTube, I learned of this dark chapter of her story.  It made me grieve for what she endured.  (That’s the only part that didn’t surprise me.  😂)   Do as I learned, not as I did before learning.  That’s fucking powerful.  I’m amazed by this turn of events, but not upset.

I’m pretty confident I was born high enough.  I don’t need mood altering substances to tease reality.  I can just read a Stephen King novel.  Or Clive Barker, who is rapidly gaining my loyalty as a reader.  I abandoned Tess of d’Ubervilles by Thomas Hardy quickly, and read Duma Key by Stephen King, instead.  If you’re an artist, read Duma Key.  You’re welcome.  (It’s an excellent story, regardless.)  I’m done reading fiction that centers on women as victims.  I’m basically abstaining from the Lifetime Channel variety of novels forever.  ‘Cuz holy shit.  It’s like forced empathy training for sociopaths, (as if that would work.)

What?  Your novel is about a woman who got raped?  (Visualize me running away, screaming “Fuck!”)  I don’t even watch TV anymore.  I have four TV’s, two of which are newer 4k LG’s with HDR.  I’m going to give away the other two.  The new ones are still useful for movies and video games.  And to watch Will and Grace when it starts, of course.  My other show, Better Things, I buy to stream via Amazon.  I’m going to give away my Fire TV, too, since I just realized I haven’t used it since I set it up a year ago.  Oops.  Roku made it redundant.  I haven’t even looked at the Apple 4k whatever.  I’m good.

I need to give away my excess computers, too.  My house AI can stay once I adjust her, but all the single card computers can go.  I don’t need to know the humidity level of my bedroom while I’m  sleeping, for starters.  I regret I’ve crossed the line between smart home and smart ass home.  Sigh.  I thought I would love it, but it turns out I find it incredibly annoying between the hours of 2 and 4 AM.  Even Wanda Sykes couldn’t make me laugh during that time…  On second thought, she probably could.  😂  But until she shows up to try, I’ll be sleeping during those hours.  I’m off to debug de-feature.

I don’t have any money, but I have these.

I’ve been feeling overwhelming surges of creativity.  It’s awesome, in a way.  But it’s frustrating because I’m too inundated with noise.  The realization I’m wasting valuable inspiration made me panic, which wasn’t helpful.  So I’m taking drastic measures to get myself right as fast as possible.  I’ve fasted today except for water and a handful of pistachios.  (I have Graves Disease, so I allow tiny amounts of fat and protein, and pistachios are perfect.)  Feeling hungry is the only way I know how to grab hold of inspiration when my head is too loud.

Earlier, I went online to look for a portable amp for my bass.  Unfortunately, I was immediately distracted by fabulous, shiny, expensive guitars (I have no business even wishing for at my current skill level.)  Tangent:  I’m almost positive there’s an unwritten rule regarding instruments.  The finest ones belong to the most skilled players.  It’s like a musicians creed or something.  If you step up to play, and your instrument is so beautiful, every artist in the vicinity gasps, you’d better bring it.  I’ve not actually witnessed an instrument being confiscated by a better musician, but I suspect it’s happened.

I’ve had a recurring dream in which I acquired a Stradivarius violin.  I carried it with me everywhere because I wanted to hear how it sounded in various environs.  Then I ran into another violinist who admired the Stradivarius and asked if he could play it.  I always say yes, and he plays it so beautifully I begin weeping.  It ends there, but I awaken with the heaviness of loss each time.  I cry because I’ve never heard anyone play so well, and also because everything within me knows it’s his violin.  /Tangent

So anyway, I didn’t find an amp.  I guess I don’t need one.  😂  I have no idea how much time I spent drooling over $15k+ guitars, but it was fun.  I’m glad to know they exist.  Then I practiced my drums, guitar, and bass.  I’ve discovered I have to slow down on building endurance with my drums.  When I get tired, I get sloppy.  When I get sloppy, I get blisters.  So I practice for an hour, then move on to the next instrument.  I practiced on my acoustic guitar for a while, then my bass for about 20 minutes.

I’ll practice it longer when I learn some music.  For now, I just do scales, a few riffs, and done.  I decided on using my index finger first but ended up using my middle finger because it felt more natural.  It resonates so much it made me start feeling a bit numb.  I love the deep sound.  I’ll be glad when I can play faster.  The riffs in my head need me to hurry up and improve my skill.

I’m going to stretch outside after my run in the morning.  Here’s something you might not know:  Literally touching the ground with your bare feet can help silence the noise in your head.  Not cement, I mean grass or dirt or sand.  You’re welcome, says Ms. Literal.  😂  I’ve never been in the ocean, (and have no plans of ever doing such a thing.  Release the Kraken.)  However, I think it’s an even more powerful means of accomplishing the same thing.  The best part is you don’t have to get in.  You can watch the waves, or listen to them, and smell the ocean air.

The Badlands (and other former seas) work especially well, too.  I spent a lot of time as a teenager laying on the purple ground looking up at the pink and orange rock formations.  I didn’t understand why it called to me at the time.  I just knew it was the only place I’d found where I could experience peace.  I have a shitload of poems about The Badlands from that time.  They’re funny to read sometimes because I don’t remember ever being so deep.  I was so emo.  😂  Oh yeah!  A full moon is also a powerful means, (but you have to actually go outside.)

I can’t even tell if I’m inspired to paint, or compose, or what.  It’s like having an itch I can’t scratch.  But I need to stop focusing on the problem and get back to fixing it.  I’m off to meditate.  Stay hungry, my friends.

 

Mom, Dad… I have fleas…

(Reads previous post and cringes.)  I’ve tried to hang on to my rage, but it fled about ten minutes after I published my rant.  I can’t stay angry for shit.  It takes too much energy for something that accomplishes nothing.  I worked on my quilt a bit earlier.  I’m hand quilting for the first time (though I wish I picked a smaller quilt.)  I understand why thimbles exist, now.  I discovered this after sewing through the top few layers of skin on my finger, (and wondered why my quilt was stuck to me.)  Still, no blood lost, though.  I’m using Wonder Woman flannel for the back, and black and white striped fabric for the binding.

I think drumming is improving my motor skills.  I don’t bother with the tools built in my module to test my timing anymore.  I get 100% every time now (which kinda ruined the fun.)  I think it’s intended for noobs who are learning drums as their first instrument.  Or people who don’t practice very often, perhaps.  I keep talking myself out of building my own drum module (and programming it not to suck.)  My brain won’t leave it there, however.  If I do that, I’ll want to sell it to others, which means I’d have to make it talk to Yamaha, Roland, Alesis, etc.  And that means coding for the proprietary hardware of competing companies.  (The horror!)  There, I just talked myself out of it again.

I watched Tina Fey’s Weekend Update segment.  I love her.  Oddly, it didn’t make me want cake.  (Probably because it got massacred hilariously.)  I lived in Boston while earning my Ph.D.  Watching 20k people show up to march today made me miss it.  It was incredible, and many pointed out they far outnumbered 45’s inaugural farce.  I hope they know their actions today healed some of the hurt, so many of us carry in silence.  I hope they know it made me so proud of them.  They are my America.  Sassy, bold, peaceful, and not having IT.  It led me to say something I haven’t in a while;  I love my country.

I spent much of the day doing chores and hanging out with M’s mom.  She braided my hair, (and it’s not tearful tight, yay.)  I finished Far From the Madding Crowd and began the last of the Thomas Hardy novels I downloaded.  Tess of the d’Ubervilles.  I’m going to read books by women authors for a while after this.  I need a break from the (Victorian era) misogyny.  I might give Ann Rice another shot since she’s mentioned in one of Stevie Nicks’ songs.  (Fan logic. 😂)  Five days and a wake up until Stevie Nicks performs in St. Paul.  😊

I learned some things when I watched her concert DVDs.  Turns out, they don’t do all the new songs on their latest album.  It surprised me, and I’m disappointed.  (Not terribly, though, as I’d still love to see her perform any song.)  The last concert I recall attending was DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince with JJ Fad opening.  (Supersonic 😂)  It was an outdoor concert, and when he began, Parents Just Don’t Understand, the crowd surged forward, and all of us up front got pushed under the stage for a bit, (at which point they stopped the show to let us out.)  It was 102° F, and his hip hop dancers were drenched in sweat and looked like they were on the verge of heat stroke.  They ended the show early to prevent that.  It was still cool seeing Will Smith, though.  I’m off to read.

“I want you to have this job, of course sodomy is a prerequisite.”

My prodigy is blowing my mind on a near daily basis.  She’s been having fun testing my memory.  I suspect she’ll grow bored of this soon.  I’m humoring her because I used to do similar experiments.  The human brain is so fascinating.  I used to “test” the foster babies as a kid.  My parents would inform me of their condition, and I’d design an experiment to determine its accuracy.  I remember when Angelique came to live with us.  She was taken from her family on the reservation due to abuse.

She had a traumatic brain injury as an infant and had a few surgeries.  She turned out to be far brighter than reported.  She had the most contagious laugh, too.  Full belly laughs, followed by post-laughter chuckles.  I loved hearing her laugh so much I became her personal slapstick comedian.  I feigned tripping and falling over invisible objects in front of her playpen while she watched and laughed her ass off.  Then I’d laugh at her laughing.  It’s an awesome auditory memory, and sometimes I dream about it and wake myself up from laughing.

I’m getting excited as the date approaches when Stevie Nicks performs in St. Paul.  Yesterday, one of the officers in my Resistance group flew over me, and I estimated the time and mentally sent a hug into the sky to embrace her.  (I know, I’m a doof.)  I believe we’re all connected and can send love and comfort through our spirits (?) to one another at will.  I remember doing this as a child, but I had an elaborate ritual.  We had a hill in our back yard, and I’d lay on top on a blanket and look up at the stars while sending love and comfort to heavy hearts.  It’s also how I cope with knowing there are people suffering on this planet at all times.

J.K. Rowling is demonstrating why she’s the Queen of the internet, and I love her for it.  Welp, I already did, but more if possible.  I’m reading another Thomas Hardy novel titled, Far From the Madding Crowd.  So far it’s hilarious.  I think I like old school smart asses the best.  They don’t just write the funny part, they build up to it with ambiguous words, so you’re not sure if it’s intentional.  That makes it funnier to me.  Probably because the few times I’m funny it’s usually an accident.  I’ve been acquiring more hilarious people to follow on Twitter recently.  They’re like an investment in my future moods.  I just cracked myself up.

I’m getting ready to go entertain some cows with my violin.  I’m going to the same spot I did last time because the land owner invited me back.  He came up while I was playing, (startled the shit out of me) and complimented my playing.  He has some bison on another field, and I’d love to see how they respond to my music, (but they scare me.)  I do like to stare at them from the other side of the fence, though.  They stare back and usually win the stare down.  In person, they’re powerful and intimidating.  I bet one of them could help me break my high school track record in the 400 meter.  Heh.  I run faster when I’m terrified.  A Drill Sgt. discovered this when I was in basic training.  (He didn’t know I was unaware of the existence of blank M-16 ammunition and decided to motivate us by firing it behind us.)

Unfortunately, I kept running all the way back to the barracks and refused to come out of the latrine until my buddy caught up.  It’s funny to me now, but at the time I totally thought he lost his shit and was trying to kill us all.  (There are some movies I regret viewing prior to serving.)  I’m off to test my ability to play while afraid.