Been taking a break, maybe you noticed, maybe you didn't.
This politics thing just made me a bit tired, what with all the horsepuckey being dished out. We'll get back into it momentarily, I promise. In the mean time, it's almost Spring, goddammit, and there's little strange weedies growing out between the cracks of my patio. I admire them, because it can't be easy pushing yourself into a place where you're not wanted, through a space that was designed for you not to go. Admiration aside, however, they have to go. Unruly bastards.
You know, this whole thing would be a hell of a lot easier if the whole world agreed with me. Weeds, for example, wouldn't be a problem. There's a place for weeds, I suppose, and in my perfect world I'd make a place for them. Weeds have a right to be weeds, fercrissakes, I know that, and I'm not trying to deny them that right. But this is my patio, and I worked hard building it, and I have decreed it unnatural for anything to grow between the cracks of a lovingly placed patio brick. Ain't natural.
You have noticed it hasn't snowed for the past several days. This is a good sign in Oregon. Don't, however, start ripping off your proper supportive undergarments and go skipping through the nasturtiums. It is not Spring. Not in Oregon.
It's Spring when I say it is. And I'll let you know.
Love to all, JP
This politics thing just made me a bit tired, what with all the horsepuckey being dished out. We'll get back into it momentarily, I promise. In the mean time, it's almost Spring, goddammit, and there's little strange weedies growing out between the cracks of my patio. I admire them, because it can't be easy pushing yourself into a place where you're not wanted, through a space that was designed for you not to go. Admiration aside, however, they have to go. Unruly bastards.
You know, this whole thing would be a hell of a lot easier if the whole world agreed with me. Weeds, for example, wouldn't be a problem. There's a place for weeds, I suppose, and in my perfect world I'd make a place for them. Weeds have a right to be weeds, fercrissakes, I know that, and I'm not trying to deny them that right. But this is my patio, and I worked hard building it, and I have decreed it unnatural for anything to grow between the cracks of a lovingly placed patio brick. Ain't natural.
You have noticed it hasn't snowed for the past several days. This is a good sign in Oregon. Don't, however, start ripping off your proper supportive undergarments and go skipping through the nasturtiums. It is not Spring. Not in Oregon.
It's Spring when I say it is. And I'll let you know.
Love to all, JP
(I assure you, not one word of this essay has anything to do with Hillary Clinton. Got something 'Spring-like" to share with all of us? Write it, and send it to me to post. EPRush1@aol.com )
1 comment:
Cousin John,
Thanks for the observations on Spring. You are a modern-day Thoreau in my book. I too am weary of politics-as-usual this election year and am seriously considering a symbolic but meaningless write-in come November if things don't start looking up. That said, I look forward to more in-depth and thought-provoking discussion at Bad Hat before election day.
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