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 sm
eared
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....
eared
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.
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 sincerity...at 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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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.
ReplyDeleteThat's silly. I would only accept Gin with a splash of tonic....
Deletewelcome back from your hiatus!
ReplyDeleteYour presuming I'm back....
Deletewe may pass each other on the river....
DeleteDo you remember when men wore "sincere" ties? I wonder what kind they wear now.
DeleteI 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....
Delete