Who's Driving This Truck?

It's a lot like being lost in deep space I suppose. Not a one should care for your direction or how fast you may end up getting to where you find yourself directed. You can't really get there under most circumstances anyway. So you could defiantly say that it does something to your brain. A lack of boundaries kind of blows the mind. So before you get your bees all up in your bonnet just know that... well, curiosity is only said to kill cats and other smallish land dwelling creatures.    and porpoises. ...all that tuna. Pull yourself together and hold tight. The wind comes fast at 65.

This Day Should Never Have Come

Before I thought the salmon to be just another unfortunate creature. But at least it ends quickly. Depending on your definition. the end may be quick, but you really can see it coming from a ways off if you aren't looking into the sun. And barring a barrage of trees. Though it may come from the trees. or below from the ground. all those moles. If you could just learn to focus every time your head came above water you might actually notice the end before it notices you. Or maybe you could increase your reaction time. Either way it shouldn't have but was expected to ...and did. So now we just wait to see how long the end actually takes.

May Not Be Warranted at This Point

Possible it's not all gone, just a mostly. The problem is in the reception. It all comes in wrong. I mean, we don't come with a PLL. And neither do they. Of course the central clock is even skewed less than halfway down the pipe so how can you expect to even get it around the block? Well the truth is, you don't  And I don't. And without that expectation where is the bird really? We wait for it. And while waiting I be falling asleep again. So don't wait up for me because I'll have nothing to tell you when I get home. At least nothing beyond what we are already accustom to. Soley while I'm chewing down the bear that I just wrestled you can try and remind me that things can be broken down into even smaller pieces. Bite size. Bad news. And thus the new day brings on many of the same things the old one brought. This time in technicolor. Here's hoping for a TKO before the third round.

Still Thinking?

So you've got grape, cherry, and strawberry. You want eldridge panayo but they're fresh out. As always. So what do you do? mix and match? settle for the cherry? or keep pretending that grape is indeed your flavor of choice? -it certainly isn't strawberry, though that jazz seems to be everywhere. So you think about it as it all melts before you. The big problem is you're probably forgetting that they're all some pear derivative. Just ask the people who made it. Really. Ask them. And as you wait for your decision to surface you miss out on how funny it is that you're dying for the bean but they're all pear anyway. Why? Because they don't all taste the same to you.

Step Off

Stop. Think about what you're into. There may be some other way. I know they say there isn't. Looking out though you get the chance to think that somehow there's more than whites and yellows down there. The line is drawn but the masses are indistinguishable. Out here though? None of that exists. Nothing really at all. At least you may think so. But opposite the view? The world is still hanging around waiting to see what'll come around next. Not that they bought stock. And they're probably betting away. You forget though. You're not an AB. So take the step.

And My Axe

Just walking along on the road. Finding small pebbles in my shoes. Dusts of time covering my feet. Would you like to fish? What the devil for? ...and watch yours too. Just come along with me and we'll find Bob's happy little trees out there. For the catching. Alone. Or in pairs.  There's something in the woods. Not happy. It's probably human. Probably in its third month. Probably wanting a bit of cheddar.  So shoot all you like and I'll keep pretending that my swinging is doing something. It's monday after all.

Shutting Down

I don't think you quite understand. It wasn't good. It wasn't even slightly ok. I should have been benched, demoted to water-boy or inconspicuous icon. Maybe even ra-ra in apprentation. You see the problem, then, in being the self appointed majordomo... when there're no more putts there's only one way to slice it.

Shock to your team and mine... everybody's lost but me.

About Bloody Time

What exactly are you supposed to do with 31 people? You can't let 'em go free. Chaos sounds nice betimes but it's not really the way of sound proper. So what then? Expand the boundaries. Buy new batteries. Flexation. It can in fact be done. And when it is you'll find that what was not now is. The best part being that in due time, which happens to be right around the corner, you'll learn to fly right. Past the three and into the end. But you have to want it. Not intense my friends.

Transpassable.

Shouldn't You Be Somewhere?

Flare. That's all it is. A good deal of flare. Who doesn't like flare?

Wrong question. Throw a shouldn't in there. Resend. Now the worlds of the possibilities are at yous finger tipsies. And you can thank single ladies for that one. A moment...

So, this time, I understand your stance, but as proof still shows...  I likely never will. So, the answer comes a negatory. And if you're ok with that then by golly Jeppersson so am I. ...as well as if not.

Talk to Me Jimmy

4 am. Up. And around. Round about. Then I feel the rain come on down. All up in my face. But I guess it appears I wasn't the only one. No, with six balls left on the table there's a lot to chew on. I mean really you've got twice the points of the next contender but that can't set you a ease. Or does it? You aren't even breathing hard anymore. Not even after dragging all those bodies. Interesting that. There's one for everyone. The problem is that they all might not get theirs. And here we find ourselves again. Only now we're years younger. But still concerned with fast pitch. All I can say is that you ought to grab yourself a sandwich. That'll get you through when the water turns cold and everyone else is running in the rain. Which then turns to snow.

All For the Want of a Shoe

 It's not the rain or the wind. It isn't the ice and snow. It's not event the hardened floor. Not the jarring forces nor the lack of thought. Not the opposition or bad positions. It all comes down to a little thing we call lack of proper outfitting.

That and  ...a couple of other small minor details.

You Tell Me

Take a good look at this picture. A good look. And you wonder why last week was a sham. Disheveled at its best. Better in fact. There's no mystery. No rocks left unturned. Just all the evidence in a bag. Exhibit A. The day of the launder tells all you know. Maybe that's why it takes so jam long.  So ask your self. How well do you really know me?

Just Like Everthing Else

In all honesty. And in addition it really does seem to figure. Not much unlike that fateful april that really seemed like september. It might have been june. You know what? Let me tell it to you in a story. There once was a guy... an man shall we say, that went out fishing. Fishing for fish. He thought that there were not enough fish. He thought he was in the desert. He thought that. And his boat was big. It had the word Incubus on the side. He thought it rather fitting for the given the season and the stock in the sea. He had no dog. He drove a boat. His first mate had been dead these seven years after a run in with Helios and his nimble friends. As guy launched out his platoon he thought a merry of himself... 'self, what rightly goods thou hast'n.' 'Aye' came the response. It worked him ill that aye was always all that echoed back. And he was jumping in the trees and jumping in the trees. That's funny story.

And it died.