You’re a hurricane.
I’m a caravan.
These days we all wander through assorted social distancing deserts on the thirsty backs of our phones. In search of an eye or an ear. Social media touches. Dots. Likes. Tags. And so forth and so on.
I left social media when this barmy dotard was somehow elected to what was previously the most powerful office in the world. Over time I got drug back into it. Now it is it. All there is.
It occurs to me that I’m not any more fit for this new is than the last one.
I did re-friend my pal Amos on Facebook, which helps a little. If he can operate in this new world, I should be able to do so. I really like that guy. I think he knows it. We are fellow first-world refugees.
I took the trash to the dump today, during my virtual lunch hour-and-a-half. There are a hundred thousand gnats buzzing around my ears and eyes. Only some of them are real.
On the way back, I stopped by HEB. Those folks are bringing it during these weird, dark times. No chicken livers to fry. But plenty of shrimp and iced tea. And bread.
You’re a lion’s tooth, I’m a piece of bread….
Had a few phone calls. One was dark, and one was bright and warm. Light, all of it. Or the absence thereof.
There are moths all over the house. We get along mostly.
Lights attract all manner of things. There’s muted colors of green and red. More immediate blue. Some stuffy white. Some that dim for a second when the air conditioning comes on. Power darkens. Or something like that.
There aren’t many black lights anymore, like in that long ago barn loft we turned into a smoky, musical, safe haven.
Do you know why you see more white sheep than black ones? Because there are more of them.
I laughed at that back in the day.