It is a strange title, I admit, but these are strange times. I haven't had to gas up the car in months. Still, I'll invent some reason to get out among people --matches, toilet paper, wine, prescriptions. Everything else gets delivered to the house. I would have prescriptions delivered, but declined years ago to have my life depend on our often dyslexic rural post office. Do I sound stir-crazy? I think so.
Sometimes I watch clips of road-rage and bad drivers on Youtube just to feel better about sheltering indoors. Fortunately, we have an abundance of outdoors, which Norma has been very busy with.
As you can see, the foreground object is la Tour Eiffel, so those roses are really big! I like the Eiffel Tower, and many other ingenious appointments added to Baron Haussmann's improvements to a squiggly-streeted city that could forever be controlled by cannon-fire down straight streets from a central point. No more revolutions? It is, I suppose (and I HATE this expression!) what it is. I believe it was David Hume who argued there is no coherent transition from a positive statement (what is) to a normative one (what could or should be). Uh, time for another Normaphoto:
The universe put her in my path and me in hers. Now she puts plants in my path and Normaphotos them. Imagine a library,1968, a stunningly beautiful Norma and a suave, debonair me. I walk in, sit and notice something quietly elegant on my right. I couldn't help sneaking glances. She finally said,"What?"
I debonairly and suavely said,"Buh, hamina dut?"
This confused her so I tried again:
"I'm Geo., would you like to go out?" I knew her name was Norma because it was written neatly on her flute case --still is.
She said, "No."
I replied, "What if I persist?"
She quietly and forcefully said,"Well, then I'll have to beat-choo up."
I'd give worlds to know how that turned out.
I have nothing in mind but a doodle done years ago and
its little poem: I have let ivy
Grow across
A disused door.
I am reminded of it by frequent encounters lately with symbols like this:
They announce May as our National Mental Health Month. I imagine a door in there somewhere but don't know which side of it we're on.
May has been Mental Health Awareness Month since 1949. I was born in 1949. I do not think this was mere coincidence.
May is now about 1/2 over-with, hence my fractional observance. Mid-month is an appropriate celebration to those of us who are half nuts.
Life is a responsibility, and it is up to half-sane people like me to set a good example.
Go thou and do likewise.
(Yes, I am back to cat photos. This pandemic has revived some agitation in me and I had to go out and look at them. They are strangely and effortlessly calming --they invite imagination.)
I have been trying to write poetry lately. It usually gives me some escape from enforced social precaution and its surfeit of isolation.
I believe I have just described the permanent jumps. I'd ask the government about it but they'd just tell me to mainline Lysol, so I won't.
However, I remember when we were kids, my brother and I would wrestle --he'd go easy on me as he was older, taller, bigger and stronger (still is!). This leads us to the introductory Normaphoto available over this text.
What you see is two brothers, Tux and Hairy Tux. They are about do this:
Let's listen in:
Hairytux: Why is Uranus blue?
Tux: My what? Oh, U know, it's a thing in space with an atmosphere of water, methane, ammonia, helium and hydrogen. Under that influence, methane reflects only sunlight's blue wavelength into outer space. But just to make sure, I'll ask my vet.
Hairytux: What is the chief export of the Arctic?
Tux: Frozen fish, of course!
Tux: Hey, get off me or I'll call Geo.!
Hairytux:He's too busy watching Nature reclaim his bathroom!
Tux: You seem to know so much. I am frightened!
Hairytux: Méfiez-vous de l'illusion de la connaissance!
Tux: Yes, yes! We are in accord.
Hairytux: Of course, dear brother. But hopefully we've helped Geo. stop sneaking up behind himself and yelling "BOO!"
Geo.: So far, so good. Anything for a treat, guys.
