Monday, August 8, 2016

Fishing for Metaphors...and other things

I’ve been "missing" again, and this time I don’t have a good excuse.

Not really....

Other than, by some trick of the calendar, summer arrived while I wasn’t looking...and by the time I did bother to look, it was  already nearly 10 days into August.

Not that I haven’t been taking full advantage of the island respite summer provides once the doldrums of winter pass and the busy work of spring is put to rest.

I have...with all the “toes in the water, ass in the sand” enthusiasm I can muster...I have

Which is part of the problem that leads to my “missing” malady.

Once summer rolls around, whether I’m aware or not, I have a penchant for hanging out the “Gone Fishing” sign...even though I’ve only once put an actual pole in the water with intent; even then, some 50 years or so ago.

And that ended up with me gagging at the sight of fish guts smeared on my fingers and having to be returned to shore where I was adopted by a band of traveling gypsies, who taught me the art of the trapeze.
But I digress....

Which is common, at least to me, come summer.

In a way, I do “go a fishing” in summer.

While I may not be physically parked in front of a keyboard, I’m still fishing for gems that spark my attention.  

Or maybe that’s more of a mining thing....but hey, I never found a metaphor I couldn’t mix.

Besides, I already dove into the fishing thing, so why should I confuse the issue...along with everything else I’m confusing.

But I digress...again.

You know...because it’s summer.

Even though I may not be tapping keys, I’m still mining hidden nuggets of absurdity nestled beneath the surface of every day in and every day out.

There...satisfied now. 

I’m just not sharing them at the moment.

Which isn’t to say I won’t, somewhere down the road, once, far removed from the figurative fishing hole and mine, I put away the metaphorical rod and shovel.

Perhaps, I may expound on my attempt to make sense of “sense” where “sense” seems to have gone on a nonsensical excursion of its own.

Or the practicality of impracticality followed by my treatise on the insincerity of least when actually sincere...for the most part...give or take.

Of course all of this is contingent on my remembering, which is a practical concern....

You know...because it’s summer.

Which makes sense to me...and I couldn’t be more sincere.

It’s just my “lazy down the river” approach to the season of sun.

The world slips past my window and I politely let it be.

For now at least.

For now....



And coming in October
(because you can never start Christmas too soon)

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  1. SO glad you're back ! I thought somebody had buried you in the sand and you were being kept alive only by beer getting poured down through a length of garden hose.

    1. That's silly. I would only accept Gin with a splash of tonic....

  2. Replies
    1. we may pass each other on the river....

    2. Do you remember when men wore "sincere" ties? I wonder what kind they wear now.

    3. I never knew that. My ties were alwasy just a pain in the neck so I avoided them as much as possible. Maybe I was hanging with the wrong bunch....


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