Another View

Remember David Lynch?

Red. RED. R.E.D. __ There's something about red....

Red is hardwired into us.

... from earliest childhood (and before)

Part of beauty from the caves.

Uhhhh, ... Next!

Born to it.

She'd look great with me in this!

I've only seen woods this way, in one condition:

"Light my Fire!"

Always red, no matter the weather. Surreal in a snowstorm.

Red. It grows on you.

Posts

I am going through a phase ... No posts. The railing just falls over.

I have never been anal about posting, prefering the Big Kahuna and utterly inane, that which rips out hearts and soul--or, last night's gas--to posting volume. There will never be the question: Can you live without me for two days instead of one?

There is nothing exciting about perversion, in general, and cerebral specifically. (Leaving you hanging, now.) I am addicted to both. One woman went postal over my comments on her blog. I thought we were just 'peachy keen' friends. Turns out she was a control freak, of her masochism. It's OK. This is what happens at public hangings ... Especially, when they are unplanned.

The other matter I want to bring up (as if you will ever have a choice. No, don't you dare mention it) is .... Ummm, ..... Darn, I forgot. I'll figure it out and let you know, tomorrow. You all are anxious to know, I know. 

Oh, yah...! Don't lie. Don't cheat; you only hurt yourself if you do. How many of you take chances and don't use spell check?  I have read some blogs where I know the answer without asking. I have this absolutely outrageous fetish for spelling. I think the phobia derived from business. Or, insecurity. I could say totally stupid, dumb-ass shit, but it had to be spelled and grammared correctly.  Now, years later, mispelling a word has me all tingley and arroused. Used to be lots, lots of commas.

Note, some mispellings, above, are intentional. What a rush! The real mistakes, are like forgetting to zip your pants after a trip to the urinal, or a three-foot tail of toilet tissue fluttering from the elastic of your pants. The genders share humility on my blog.

Easter Eggs

Every year we "have to decorate eggs!" The other day I was sent out to cut down a forest for the perfect "egg tree".

I remember when I was wee-little collecting tumble-weeds that skipped over vacant land in the southwestern deserts of the US. The fun part was poking holes into the raw eggs and blowing out the insides, for the shells to hang on the weed tree.
It was simple then.

Over the years complications evolved. Eggs, dye, and weeds all developed hazards, or projected harmful toxicologies. Sucking raw eggs sends us to the emergency room with E-coli. Dyes can't have decent colors, so eggs look anemic after dipping. Tumbleweeds, and trees, are noxious pests--or, protected and require pruning permits.

So, I wonder what happened to the other eggs? The eggs in a pair that resided inside females who don't lay the kind of eggs we suck, or dye, or hang on easter trees ... ?  Do simple weighted balls, or balls inside balls, not provide the zing needed? Are toxic plastics, battery waste, and metals mouldering in landfills the safe replacement for stainless steel? Has higher evolution replaced low technology?

Happy St. Pat's Day

My two favorite colors:  One, associated with life and growth. The other, with desire and excitement.