Post-Menopausal

There was a week period several years ago that I dabbled in photoshop and political cartoons. While waiting for some literary inspiration, I figured I should throw these up. Some are outdated - remember Samuel Alito? - but others still make me chuckle.

Sometimes You Can Throw the Towel Back

Where did 2007 go? The last half of 2006 is nowhere to be found, either. What happens at 28 when you've finally discovered that all you want in life is to to aim lasers at nearly empty space? That it's the goings-on of absolutely miniscule almost nothings that keep the will o' the wisps dancing on the insides of your eyelids at night when you're trying to sleep, when once it was a kiss, a song, a triumph? I'll tell you what happens - the blog suffers like a pair of 34 waist Levis 501s on a 400 lb trucker.

I apologize for all the numbers in that last sentence. They're supplanting words I once knew (what the hell does sesquipedalian mean?), framing every thought I have, sneaking into intimate moments, furtively injecting an artistic xenophobia. So it's not just the blog that suffers, it's the unholy ascent of the Dark Ages once culture is left to putrify. Enough is enough! But I'm a naive and ineffectual man, I never would have noticed on my own. The catalytic call to rise up and overthrow this cerebral apartheid came to me recently from a truly unexpected source, a Copernican shot of adrenaline straight to the frontal lobe is what she delivered.

No personal progress can be made until an extensive critique has been drafted, read, edited, scrutinized, polished, and published. That said, it's a simple admission that an imprecise summary will suffice: I was never artistic, almost creative on the good days, grasping on the bad ones; but once upon a time I acknowledged and appreciated that which wasn't firmly planted in reason. Good enough? For now.

Here is where I issue my creed: "I will be content only as a polymath." That's just the short, sweet, and nauseatingly erudite way of saying I will never again neglect the inspiration streaming from every fucking thing. I will be a lover again.

On that note, here's a golden nugget [on adultery:passion] from Mark Twain:

"...for even the Bible knows enough to know that if the oldest veteran could get his lost heyday back again for an hour he would cast that commandment to the winds and ruin the first woman he came across, even though she were an entire stranger."

God, that cracks me up every time. See you soon.