the thought police are doing a number on the old professor’s head
When I venture out for a walk, I sometimes meet some interesting people…from all walks of life. They could be dog walkers…people going or returning from an errand…the homeless… some of them I’ve gotten to know over the past few years…sometimes I’ll give them a dollar or two, as I know how it is to be in their predicament… then there was a woman who was sitting on the boardwalk bench and I told her I liked her new bicycle…she was tickled pink telling me how she was tracking it online from where the bike was shipped from California….
Anyway you never know who you’ll see…run into…and say hello and maybe a conversation
what is reality
what is real
what is fake
what is true
going to try
“Reading is the creative center of a writer’s life. I take a book with me everywhere I go, and find there are all sorts of opportunities to dip in. The trick is to teach yourself to read in small sips as well as in long swallows. Waiting rooms were made for books— of course! But so are theater lobbies before the show, long and boring checkout lines, and everyone’s favorite, the john. You can even read while you’re driving, thanks to the audiobook revolution. Of the books I read each year, anywhere from six to a dozen are on tape.”
~ Stephen King
at 3:21 pm
in a flash
like it was
all a blur
that was real
coffee in hand
pounding the pavement
saying hi to everyone
yet no plan
as to where he is going
We have to cross the boundary between knowing and not knowing many times before we achieve understanding.
Anyone who has become entranced by the sound of water drops in the darkness of a ruin can attest to the extraordinary capacity of the ear to carve a volume into the void of darkness. The space traced by the ear becomes a cavity sculpted in the interior of the mind.
“The greatest achievement was at first and for a time a dream. The oak sleeps in the acorn, the bird waits in the egg, and in the highest vision of the soul a waking angel stirs. Dreams are the seedlings of realities.”
~ James Allen, Writer, 1864 – 1912