minutesofhoney

Archive for April, 2012|Monthly archive page

What was ruckus ain’t ruckus ain’t skipping no more.

In Life, Love, Music on April 26, 2012 at 6:06 pm

The CD skips.  It’s been playing for almost three years now, so it’s bound to have some nicks and grooves. But in the car on the scenic route, today, it forgets.  We’re “nearly four” again on “Dominic St. in the afternoon.” Who’d know we once pushed so hard and trod so slow just to eke out another second of sound?  This sailing’s easy.

Today I’m not skipping.  Even though I’m thinking about him – my mind licking nicked and neural pathways that have recently caused the pain –  it’s like I’m bumper bowling in my brain, and no matter how the heavy floor-breaker rattles and whoops cerebral spaces, it’s cushy, even comfortable to host. Come on in, the water’s fine!

What was ruckus ain’t ruckus ain’t skipping no more.

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One True Thing

In Life, Philosophy on April 17, 2012 at 10:37 pm

I have figured out one true thing. Maybe I can tell you and maybe you know one true thing, too, and together we can know a few.  And that’ll probably be enough.

Ready?

No matter how many bobby pins one has (and the drug store usually sells a whole mess at once), one will lose them all within a few months…maybe half a year.

One Gal Band

In Music on April 10, 2012 at 4:43 pm

So. I am jamming out, at night, at 10:36 at night to James Taylor on my laptop, on my flute. I am watching One Man Band, and there’s the Man, in show, Steamrolling Blues. And he can only hear the piano and the crowd sway, but I’m here, too, figuring on my tweed couch we’ve gone to G which begs a few flats from B minor and oh my God, I’m actually swaying as the half moon on my door lets in the no sun on a Monday night.

Just thought I’d mention that this is what I do with myself these days – I don’t date! I try not to hate! And I make the flute sound great! Tee hee.

Crap

In Life on April 3, 2012 at 6:01 pm

So the other day was crap.

But then, on a failed return to Trader Joe’s with bottles of 2 Buck Chuck pulling at the bag in my hand (who knew Wisconsin state law prohibits returning last week’s unopened alcohol?), a grown man lifted off the ground and footless flew! on a cart, returning it to line.