Where Kennedy & Henderson intersect

look into ourself and find
a little less than what we thought
from all the layers peeled away
a smaller truth than what we sought

a light that shines, intense or not
illuminates our way
our grand ideas, pontificate
are just the words we say

to coexist or choose the pain
the twisty path or straight
towards the evening or the light
the spike of hope that starts the day

remarkable is what I'm not
remember me you won't
but you will see the good I do
except for when I don't

we look into ourself and find
a lesserness than what we'd thought
from all the layers stripped away
a smaller truth than what we sought

Oohhhh, and look, they rhyme. I like it when they rhyme. I feel the rhythm in words and in my mind they snake this way and that. You either understand what I mean or you don't. I have a minstrel's soul, I believe, and words soothe me. I don't mean that incessant babbling is soothing, because it is quite the contrary. But for me, the message is somewhat less important than the rhythm. And by the way, the message in that rhyme, written in one pass as usual, is "Coexist, y'all. None of us is all that."

It is Spring and I am lazy. Kind of. At work I have been very busy. I just taught a two week maintenance course for the first time. That is pretty labor intensive. As a student you come in, sit through class, do some practicals, and go home. As you know, the instructor also has to prepare, give and grade the tests, document the progress, print grad certificates, secure and open the classroom, etc., etc. So I am busy enough at work. And next week I have a new class for the guys at Osaka's Kansai Airport. Besides being sticklers for detail, not my strongest suit, there will be the added work of feeding them what they want, which will not be easy in a Florida beach town, helping them decide what to do in their off hours and help them get directions, and working through a translator all the while. It'll be both fulfilling and draining.

But when I get home I have just been lighting a big fat cigar, putting the lawn chair under the big tangerine tree (because in the Spring it smells like I believe heaven will smell...minus the cigar smoke of course) and sitting, alone with the dogs. There are things I could be doing, like blogging, but life is short. I have often said that the best friends (and by extension, the best days) allow just doing nothing to be a valid course of action.

In the meantime I have refinanced the house. The market sucks right now, so the mortgage bankers are scrambling. I called a feller up and told him I wanted to refinance but I worked far away and was busy. How could he accomodate me if he wanted my business? He was quite accomodating, as it turned out. We did all the negotiation and then paperwork in a series of meetings at a Starbucks on Lumsden Avenue, at 5:30 in the afternoon, exactly 1 small parking lot out of my way as I was coming home from work. On the appointed days I would drive home as usual except when I got to the Starbucks I would turn into the lot, get out, meet with my banker, get back in the car, exit the parking lot, and continue home. I must say, that was pretty convienent. And he had great ties. Real snappy dresser.

I think that I had some words of wisdom to scribe here, but I have forgotten what they were.

Did you hear that the Don Imus fallout has now affected the Miss America pagent? Damndest thing. There will only be 49 contestants this year because nobody wants to wear the sash that says "Idaho". (OK, admit it. That's a good one.)

Dang! Have I been away too long or what? I can't get blogger to move my pictures where I want them and it is double and triple spacing things on it's own. Not so sure I like my word processors being so headstrong. Nowattimean??

AI, I did check out the Dexateens, and I liked them. I think we are eye to eye in the music department. There's a lot of really, really twangy country music (George Jones and Vern Gosdin come to mind) that we may not have in common, but we got the same idea about the southern rock/rockin country/teenage rebel confessionals stuff.

I have friends coming down from Jacksonville for the weekend. The husband, my old friend, is still active duty and still stationed in Qatar. The kids want to see a rock show at Raymond James Stadium here in Tampa on Sunday. So the wife has 3 kids and two dogs (shih tzus are kinda like dogs, right?) and is headed to town. I, of course, made my home available to them all. It's what you do, right?

Go Speedracer, out
Ramblin' Ed