Spending Time with the Person Who Put the Clincher in ... for the Love of Stories.

I have been in the basement trying out my effects module without in series to other effects. Rather NYC Ramones punk mode. Hints of surf music. Lots of refinement and without another effects with more control, in need of a potentiometre I am I am. Anyway my father encourages me to go at entrepreneuring, modifying/making electronic music projects, build violins/guitars, put the truck panels with Matisse flowers and vignettes, and to call my mother on Mother's Day weekend. I am fortunate after her two brain surgeries, the successful cancer and aneurisms surgeries about a dozen years apart, coaching her to read again, listening to her talk about the latest, and seeing her favorite activity being the flower garden, visiting and seeing her excellent handwriting on the crossword puzzles ... it is a reminder of Julia Cameron's bit on the detail of her grandmother's account of the details that keep us aware that life happened today, sometimes uneventful, sometimes screaming overboard too and too eventful, doing the pace, the cadence, the rhythm of the cycles, circadia rhythmia and its imperfections and differences each day, cycles of similarities and differences, events dividing the moments, the night dividing the day, day/night, another day I wrote/didn't write, another connection with someone for a fever for a better way/life/world/self. All a story, feels worth the time to journal, cheap to bind it electronically/rich to e-bind/accounting for the wealthy times/in gratitude for e-publishing. E-publishing tunes me into my former anthro/archeo professor experiencing a new dig, new stories buried at Nobles Pond in Ohio, not that far from campus. What a retirement. Of friends recalling their version of running into each other after a long stint and different directions, being healthily aware saving one from insanity of being out of touch,learning from the old stories, life meaning more than watching someone else have fun in front of someone else's camera, listening to "scouting out locations" and "inventing situations" and living it myself, being a prepared mind in the right place for opportunities, messing around on the experimental photographs to form stories, form stories around photographs. ... . Looking at my shelves with over fifty manuscripts, some 100K word count, knowing life is important, that the phrase "choose life" is not just a tee-shirt slogan, ... like "BORN to DAVEN!" ???? That I now have the capabilities to write about getting my re-dyed tie-dye teez out of the sink and tub knowing there is a bunch, there are bunches of words behind the props. Like out to see and out to sea and lives have been lost, found, sung about, writtten/typed up/read/heard/listened/used for fuel for making the world better. It still seems from time to time; "all a dream/we had/one afternoon/long ago."

thanks,

TE