So sore today. The little trip last evening has exacted its toll on my creaking joints, but damn, it was fun. Thanks Princess for forcing my hand and making me get out and about. I owe you one.

Another thunderstorm just rumbled through.

It's great to be alive and be in Tennessee!--Charlie Daniels

I made up my tiny mind to go make some photographs this evening, even though it had been storming and was still raining. By the time I reached my first destination, the sun was making an appearance, but I didn't get any satisfying photos there. I drove through the countryside and found a couple of church buildings to shoot at. Just as the sun was getting low, I arrived in Watauga Flats and got off a couple of shots. Generally, I don't do sunsets, as there are so many already on Flickr, but being as I didn't have much to show for an evening's work, I tried one. Results: No better than average.

Looks like anyone would know that one bagel is sufficient! But no; Hell No! I had to eat three. I deserve to be sick. I WANT to be sick. I'm sick in the freaking head! I invite anyone who reads this to give my ass a virtual kick. If you see me in person, kick it again.

As the end of July looms, and the end of Dog Days nears, it is time to plan ahead just a little bit for the coming of autumn. A new sweater perhaps, or getting the car ready for the cold, wet days of winter. Whatever your plans for the days of ever decreasing daylight, be sure to live like it will be the best season ever.

A full moon will grace us Sunday. Such occasions are said to bring out the weirdos and lovers. Either or both will fit me, for it has been said that I am a weird lover. Well, as long as I have someone to love, a little freakishness won't hurt. Might even help. Beats the same old same old.

Well, my children, peaceful be your life. Smile and an angel will smile with you.

Shot day again. I'm about to get burned out with getting these damned shots every week. In fact, I'm getting burned out with a lot of things, but mostly people. No, not you. It's the insincere ones that'll tell you anything to keep you strung out. One would think after all these years I would know better than to get involved with such nonsense. But no, gullible old Ken just keeps asking for it, and the purveyors of hypocrisy just keep on shoveling.

What am I going to do about perpetually having sand kicked in my face? Probably nothing. Actually, it does hurt some, but I've learned to live with pain, mental and physical, although I don't always understand why I was chosen for the honor. Even when I look in the mirror, the fellow looking back at me will shake his head and quickly avert his eyes. He doesn't want to shame me, I guess.

Anyway, that's enough about me. How are you doing?

In a little more than a week, I will be 63 years old. I haven't lived a very eventful life, but am I not dissatisfied with the way I lived it. I haven't learned much in those years, although two things do stand out. One is, I've learned that I have learned nothing about women. Second is, diarrhea doesn't wait for you to finish eating supper.

Just a Monday. Toast for breakfast and a TV dinner for supper. Yech! I am lucky enough to have a clementine for desert; make that two clementines. Love 'em; simply love 'em!

The powers that be decided that I was a perfect fit as a Flickr group administrator. I guess they knew I didn't have anything else to do and wasn't smart enough to screw things too badly.

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Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.--Edgar Allen Poe

I've spent the past few days resting my swollen feet and ankles. Haven't been outside the house since I got my shot on Friday.

Been going through old negatives, again. Scanning, cleaning them up and cropping when necessary with Paintshop Pro. I've done about 40 since Friday night, and have many hundreds to go, just in one notebook.

Yeah, I know. Most of them aren't my best stuff, but they please me, and that is all that matters. "To thine own self be true."



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To Thine Own Self Be True

Yet here, Laertes! Aboard, aboard for shame!
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
And you are stay'd for.
There ... my blessing with thee!
And these few precepts in thy memory
Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg’d comrade.  Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel but, being in,
Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice;
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgement.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man;
And they in France of the best rank and station
Are of a most select and generous chief in that.
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell; my blessing season this in thee!

From Hamlet
--William Shakespeare

Shot day and a good day. Hearts are lightened and robins are happy. Sometimes on these special days, I forget that I'm a world class grouch and occasionally I smile. I hope you'll smile with me.

One time, my old friend Fred and I were sitting at at a bar, carrying on our usual bull session. I had been having some family problems and was a little out of sorts. I started telling him some of the things that were troubling me, and asked his advice as to what he thought I ought to do. Fred turned up his beer can and drained it, hinting that he needed a new one. I got the barkeep's attention and ordered two more, expecting my friend to alleviate some of my problems with his excellent opinion. He looked to be in deep thought for a minute or so, then said to me, "It looks like you've got a family problem".

I sat still for a few moments, expecting more than the obvious, but Fred just looked at me, raised his eyebrows and shook his head, letting me know I had his sympathy, but he was not getting involved in anyone else's family business.

With no one else to turn to, I went about patching up my problems on my own, and it didn't take me long to do so. One or two got mad at me, and one or two got glad at me, but it made no difference either way because I did what I had to do, and everyone knew where I stood on the matter. Time, as it usually does, took care of everyone's feelings, and after a while, we were able to get together and be as normal a family as possible.

Later on, I told Fred that I appreciated him helping me with my problems. He knew that I meant it and replied, "Any time; now buy me a beer".

Family problems are something we all have, and sooner or later, we have to say enough is enough and do whatever it takes to remedy the state of affairs. Once the mind is settled to the fact that we've done everything we can do, we go to sleep and let time work its magic.

The doctor wasn't in. I lost a night's sleep and had to take a bath for nothing.

I did get a new mouse, though. One of those cordless jobs. Had one once before—same brand—but it ate a pair of batteries every two weeks. They claim this one will last up to eight months before new batteries are needed.

A Wall

Mouse is still broken, and now, so am I. Doctor tomorrow. Probably nothing serious, but at my age, anything can be cause for concern. Not so much concern by me, but Carolyn gets dyspepsia when she thinks I'm sick. She always thinks I'm sick, bless her heart. Sometimes I have to pretend to be a well constructed wall even as my mortar crumbles.

I've patched together a barely useable mouse, a little fellow made for laptops, that doesn't fit my crooked fingers at all. Every time I move it, I accidentally press the right-side button with my backward-bent ring finger, which brings myriads of pop-ups and I get mad and begin throwing things. I stuck a piece of paper under the button, and I'm getting along better. I just have to press extra hard to get it to work.

A Cruel World

Mouse is broken! Computer nearly useless! Can't breathe! Going fast!

Decay is inherent in all compounded things. Strive on with diligence. - Buddha

After leaving the church and Headtown yesterday, I drove through what used to be called "Lover's Lane". I imagine there is still a little loving going on there, but it is in the myriad houses built along the now paved road. Used to be an excellent place for back-seat lovin', at least that's what I've been told.

We used to hunt for mushrooms (morels) on the ridge that parallels the road, but it now has homes dotted along its crest and subdivisions on its flanks. Where all these people are coming from to build and live in these big houses is a mystery to me. It is said that some of them have indoor swimming pools. Even more baffling, is why have they come here. Retirees, I hear. Buicks and Escalades; Lexus' and Lincolns. I've lived in coal mining communities in West Virginia that aren't nearly as boring as this stagnated waterhole of an area.

Anyway, I spotted an old manure spreader and small bulldozer that seem waiting to be photographed. I'll get to them, directly.

Shot Day! Hooray!

Blood work is done, as is my weekly injection.

Of the four eggs laid by momma robin, three hatched and two chicks survived. Mom and dad are working nonstop to feed the family. It has rained just enough for earthworms to venture near the surface, and just in time. Another week will see the little ones off the nest and into the nearby brush. Hopefully, a cat or 'coon don't catch them.

Haven't been out to take photos this week, and it's making me loonier. Been working on and posting some older photos the entire time. I'm losing feeling in my right foot, but maybe I'll be able to walk enough to get some more photos on the Roan this Sunday. Maybe not.

Back To The Island

Back To The Island
Leon Russell

Now the day is gone and I sit alone and think of you, girl
What can I do without you in my life?
I guess that our good thing just had to end that way
The hardest one to lose of all the games we played

But the time is past for living in a dream world
Lying to myself can't make that scene
Of wondering if you love me or just making a fool of me
Well I hope you understand I just had to go back to the island

Chorus:

And watch the sun go down (sit and watch the sun go down)
Hear the sea roll in (listen to the sea roll in)
But I'll be thinking of you (yes, and I'll be thinking of you)
And how it might have been (thinking how it might have been)
Hear the night birds cry (listen to the night birds cry)
Watch the sunset die (sit and watch the sunset die)
Well I hope you understand I just had to go back to the island

Well all the fun has died, It's raining in my heart
I know deep down in my soul I'm really gonna miss you
But it had to end this way with all the games we played
Well I hope you understand I just had to go back to the island

Repeat Chorus

Repeat Chorus

One of the great things about this song is the lead-in. The sound of waves crashing, though not overpowering, makes me want to be there.

Sometimes...

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child!

I'm still not up to getting out. Tomorrow, I will have to do so for more blood work and my perpetual shot. Bummer, man!

I need another summer of love, like we laid on ourselves in '67. Man, we grooved to the great music explosion, like Soul Man with Sam and Dave, Brown Eyed Girl from Van Morrison, The Association's Windy, I Had Too Much To Dream Last Night by the Electric Prunes, Jefferson Airplane's Somebody To Love. These were like just the air hits, man,

Best of all, man, was the Monterey Pop Festival. Hands down the best Rock and Roll gathering ever. Like, the gods walked with us, man.

Love, my children.

Hurt

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love."--Neil Gaiman

Why?

Why do sliced tomatoes taste better than cubed tomatoes?

Not much today except for a swollen foot that doesn't want to cooperate. Still can't get out to try for some photos. Bummer.

I'm having a relapse to my "hippier" days, by allowing my hair—what little I have—to grow long. It's down to my collar and half-way down my big—but sexy—ears. No beard or mustache this time around, though. I don't plan on taking a bath but maybe once a month, and dirty facial hair tends to attract small critters that manage to get in one's nose and mouth. An old, overweight, arthritic, and white-haired hippy. You gotta love me, because I love you.

I've a reefer necklace and a peace pin somewhere that I need to dig up. Tie-dyes, flip-flops and bell bottoms for social occasions like concerts, love-ins, and Sunday peace marches. Cut-off raggedy-ass jeans, a blue polka-dot bandanna for headwear, and a Pink Floyd shirt for every day should complete my transformation. No underwear! Ever!

I still have my water pipes, bongs, roach clips, and hash pipes hidden away. The old Mother Jug is awaiting the day of the new revolution. She's a great shot-gunner! Easy Rider will flick at my pad this weekend, and Cream's Disraeli Gears will be spinning on the 33. Karma will be good and I'll be freakin'!

Peace, my children.

Back To The Island

Feeling better. I was really down sick yesterday. Very sore knees today, but I can live with it.

No takers on my dream from Friday night. I've been listening to some old 33s, and one was Back to the Island by Leon Russell, a song about a guy leaving his girlfriend to return to the tropic islands. I guess this is where my dream has its roots. It was a favorite song of my friends Brenda and Ken Moore. Fortunately, Brenda got to go to the islands before leaving us so prematurely.

Russell is one of the best writers of love songs that I've heard. He also did some country stuff under the name of Hank Wilson. I was lucky enough to see him in concert back in the late 70s when he opened for The Allman Brothers. Russell played and sang for more than an hour, then the Allmans came out and told the audience "We're going to play everything we know". They began about 8:30 pm and finished just before 1:00 am, with just two short breaks. It was one helluva night. Russell joined them for several songs and the encore. I missed work the next day.

I've felt poorly most of today. I'll be up and runnin' come the morn.

I dreamed last night, a night filled with restlessness. This is how I recall my dream.

On an island beach that stretches from horizon to horizon, two people walking alone approach each other. Both have their eyes toward the sand and surf at their feet until just before meeting. Looking up, the man smiles to the woman and the woman returns in kind. They pass, with barely their shoulders touching, and continue each on their on paths for a few paces. Both stop and turn face-to-face for a moment, and again approach each other. With not a word, the heretofore strangers join hands and walk toward the rising moon.

Any latter day Joseph want to take a stab at this one?

New Me?

I've decided to try to change my evil ways. No longer will I rant about anything religious on this blog. I will strive to be a kindler, gentler blogster. I like blogster, which isn't a real word, better than blogger.

In the spirit of my new found good will toward all, I've deleted the disparaging religious references made by me on this blog over the past few days.

I'm sure at least one or two of you will think I'm just shoveling the same old ....! But tsk, tsk not, my friends. As sure as Wayne is my middle name, things have changed. From here out, if I ruffle any feathers on this blog, it will be unintentional, and I hope you will kick my backside if I backslide.

One thing though, in my short college career, my major was communications, the art of making people believe what you want them to believe. Fear not, my friends, for if I consider you a friend, I will not knowingly mislead you. I promise!

Got my shot today. Didn't hurt.

Not much happening today, except traffic was/is terrible. I don't know how such an insignificant rat hole like Johnson City can have so many cars on the street at the same time. The worse part of it is, the city traffic engineer is pathetic at his job. He couldn't time a turtle race, let alone a traffic light.

Dog Days begin tomorrow. It is a time of the hottest and most humid days of summer. Just to make it a little more bearable, I've included this photo to remind you of what is next. Me, I'll take the Dog Days!