What?
Somewhere in the deep dark recesses of this mind, I remember writing about this topic: Why write? Just so there is no confusion, I don’t do this for you. I don’t even know who “you” is. It certainly isn’t the love of my life. (Occasionally I will read something I have written to her, when she’s half awake.) It’s not my cat. He can’t read. I tried to teach him to read so I would have a following, but that was a hopeless endeavor. It’s not my good friend that goes camping with me. As pathological as he is, I can’t even get him to read this stuff. It’s 2:40 in the morning. That should tell you everything you need to know. I do this for me. That’s it. There is no other possible explanation.
So what am I saying?
Nothing really. My vain hope is that doing this will prevent my brain from turning to Jello. I think it has already started (turning to Jello) maybe that’s why no one reads this… They don’t want to feel obligated to commit me. Still and all, I can go camping on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. I can get 25 miles off road on the East Rim of the Grand Canyon above Glen Canyon Damn. How many people can say that? Damn few. Even our most respected leaders that pride themselves on knowing all and being able to do anything, have not had this experience. I consider myself blessed. So you play golf and you own golf courses all over the world… Good for you. All golf courses are pretty much the same, especially if your caddy will retrieve all of your shanks and put them back in the fairway for you. (I suppose that’s another story.) Getting back to the matter at hand, it’s now 3:10 in the morning and I probably need to try and get some sleep. Thank you for not reading this.