Long weekend - No writing

Hey, hey and good morning. I missed you. Whether you are the words, the work, or my imagined audience, I hope you had a restful weekend and that this finds you well. I have to admit right up front that I'm fantastically lazy about writing on weekends. I prefer to selfishly spend time playing with my son or talking to my wonderful wife or catching up on video game quests that I set in motion the week before. I accept it as another quirk in the practice of the Tao of Me and delight in the art of living my life as much as I do the daily practice of my art(s). I got an extension at work, so less worry there. And I’m taking Fridays off from work now, partly to spend more time with the youngster and partly to give Etta more time to devote to her 2^nd and 3^rd jobs. She is working her tail off to help inspire and facilitate new work in Austin and I am lucky to be able to help in any way. I have long aspired to be the man behind the great woman, a sort of promise I made myself to repay some of the karmic debt I owe to my mother, who sacrificed so very much so that I could be all that I am today. One day Etta will be the proof of the m-theory of Austin Art. It is an honor to live along side of her as she struggles and strives, fails, learns, and achieves.

What a nice morning. Cool enough to require a coat, but warm enough to know I’ll probably be carrying it this afternoon. I wore a hat, but it was as much to cover my hair as it was to warm my head. The ducks were blanketed in a small but thick sheet of pond fog that created a fairly believable phantom quack effect. Try as I might I could not locate the dullards and I imagined that they rather enjoyed the hide and my seeking; like a three year old who can’t help but laugh at the anticipation inherent in the game. I found a five dollar bill in the grass in the dark on my way to the bus stop. It sits now in my warm pocket, surrounded by a field of probability that is strengthened by my unwillingness to check and make sure I actually found five dollars. The new bus schedule actually makes me feel like a sound effect in the Happy Workers song. (Sorry about the video, I couldn’t help myself.) I stepped off my bus and watched the train slide into the station. Without breaking stride I stepped on and snuck into the back row for a little Catcher in the Rye. I was unable to wait for today to read the last 40 pages or so of The Gunslinger. It ended like I thought it might and I’m hooked, not as ravenously as college me was to the Hitchhiker’s Guide books, but hooked enough that  I know I’ll read every book in the series. It is on a serious list of books to read and off the probably not list that most books are on. I’m a bit surprised by the colloquialism of The Catcher, but I withhold reaction and let Holden weave his slacker spell. I step off the train and right on to the rail connector that takes me downtown, stealing a few more pages before yawning like a shadow onto the third floor ten minutes earlier than usual. This morning the smiles come easy because of some cheeky mental preoccupations. One, my dreams are becoming very vivid and after checking with some dream dictionaries and interpretations, most have been about being excited to share my gifts with the world. Also they are funny. I like that my subconscious takes the time to be humorous. Two, there is an empty office on my floor that reminds me of The Secret of My Success every time I walk by it. I am seriously contemplating a sequel. I’m bringing this song back. Man, Michael J. Fox was cute. And the third has to do with timing and freezing temperatures, and changing bus schedules, and this blog. I see what you’re doing there universe . . . and I like it. I prefer a more direct approach, but I know that’s not your thing. Oh by the way . . . nice timing with The Gunslinger. I’m more than happy to be encapsulated on a blade of purple grass, as long as I can count myself the king of infinite space.