(Hey so I'm posting this above what's below it, about ten hours later, as if this were an actual blog in which you could have multiple posts on a page, one on top of the other, the most recentest at the top)
There was a part I was too lazy to re-post (see below) after I lost the initial post this morning (see below). I had a dream the other night, one of those sci-fi, I'm the only one who can save the planet dreams, a 12-Monkees dream, if you will. You have those too, right? Anyway, something huge is happening, is about to happen, on earth, some grand automation that's going to solve all of our problems. On the day of the great implementation, people are gathered in huge masses. The mass I am with is in a convention center or airport kind of thing. There is much bustle and anticipation. Armed guards, instructions over speakers, celebration and organization. But all is not well – I'm the only guy there who knows that it's all a sinister plot, that once the implementation is implemented, it'll just be a matter of days before we're all dead. How do I know this? I don't know, but I know it. But no one would believe little old me, of course, and there are powers, evil powers, that don't want anyone to know what I know, of course. And they are very very powerful, very very evil. So I have to get to the only legitimate, respected public figure who I know is there and whom I know I can trust because we are kind of friends, friendly acquaintences anyway, but I just know she's trustworthy. And so I fight my way through crowds and sneak and run past security checkpoints and run and run and run to get to this person who can get in front of a camera and speak the truth and save us all . . . Pam Anderson.
Sadly, before I can get to her, a voice says to me, "Honey, it's 10 o'clock, we've got to get going soon . . . ." I hope Pam got word somehow, some way. God I hope she did.
***
I just spent an hour at this unlikely hour of 5-6am writing a post that just up and disappeared on me when I went to save it. A fine way to start my 45th birthday. Oh well, I'm sure it'll get better from here out. The post dealt with aging as inspiring, as, damn-I've-got-a-lot-to-get-done feeling. And I do, and it is. And I'm not recreating the post very well by telling you about what it was about, so I'm going to surrender to the loss of it and go back to sleep for a while. I'm down in NYC to see old friends and celebrate the fact that, as one generous pal put it, I'm "now closer to 60 than to 30," and I want to be alive and alert for said celebratin'. Looking for an image from within the little library of pics we've collected for MAID to accompany this, I came across this one, below, which I used to walk by on my way home after bartending back in SF, and wihch I always stopped to read. It's quite dark for a birthday, but I have two new thoughts about it this early morn. First, that that rock star fame was never what I really wanted, never what anyone really wants, I'd almost argue. And second, that I choose to think of it as ending with elipses rather than a final endstop and that maybe, after those elipses is the word "unless" . . . .
