Do you ever get the feeling that the universe is trying to tell you something? Do you get that too? No? You don't? Oh yeah. Neither do I. That's just crazy talk.
Whenever I hear Van Morrison sing I always imagine him giving a concert for the faerie king who lives under the hill. Do you do that too? No? Oh. I do.
If you're like me you've always had an aversion to Sansabelt slacks. You've always feared that, if you wore Sansabelt slacks, you'd have to put Brylcreem in your hair. A little dab will do ya. You've always dreaded having to wear those really thin golf shirts that cling too tightly in all the wrong places. You've pictured leather shoes with tassels. When I picture Sansabelt slacks I picture Rodney Dangerfield on the 17th hole or on his yacht. And you?
I don't know where this post is going. It's meandering. Sometimes my mind wanders. It's at those times that I lose track of language. It's at those times that I ask myself strange questions like, "Did that saxophone just say what I think it said?" Saxophones don't talk, however. If they did you might have to have a conversation with Kenny G, and no one needs that. That's just crazy talk.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
