Bird's Nest

Was the name of the course. A disc golfing course. I guess its kind of a big deal out here in Colorady. I ventured out Saturday afternoon to see what all the hype was about. With Stella (that's the name of me camera) in tow, I snagged some stellar pics. And can't help but think of Frodo and friends when I glance at the pictures of the guys walking towards the foothills.

For TQ Senior

What better way to share a song with your dad (Ideally, I would prefer Bose speakers and some Mooshead)- But maybe this song will make the speakers- and he'll crack open a Moosehead- and give her a good listen.

Oh someday- when you're lookin' back

Dylan Break.

Taking my lunch break today, I found myself needing a break from my break.  I've overcome my fear of eating alone here lately, and enjoy my surroundings of people running around in business suits while feverishly looking at their wrist watches.  As I was waiting for my number to be yelled out at the deli, I found a high table and let my mind zone out into the sea of busy faces and telling watches.  My ears perked  as I heard Dylan's voice overpower the swarming conversations of spread sheets and data "Once upon a time you dressed so fine" my internal sound chord was struck. 


The Truman Show was a great movie and I find it resurfacing my brain from time to time, causing me to wonder if it's is all just a stage.  Today at 12:15, I thought the universe had found my anthem and decided to hit me with it on my lunch break.  [I know I promised to steer clear of the copy and paste feature, during the duration of this blog... but hey, it's these exact lyrics I'll need to re-visit when I overcome whatever this is I'm going through]

Once upon a time you dressed so fine,

Threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you ?

People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall,"

You thought they were all a’kiddin' you.

You used to laugh about

Everybody that was hangin' out.

Now you don't talk so loud,

Now you don't seem so proud,

About having to be scrounging your next meal.

How does it feel ?

How does it feel ?

To be without a home ?

Like a complete unknown ?

Like a rolling stone ?

Aw, you've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely,

But you know you only used to get “juiced” in it.

Nobody’s ever taught you how to live out on the street,

And now you're gonna have to get used to it.

You say you never compromise

With a mystery tramp, but now you realize

He's not selling any alibis

As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes

And say, “Do you want to make a deal? 

How does it feel ?

How does it feel ?

To be on your own ?

With no direction home ?

A complete unknown ?

Like a rolling stone ?

Aw, you never turned around to see the frowns

On the jugglers and the clowns

When they all did tricks for you.

You never understood that it ain't no good,

You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you.

You used to ride on a chrome horse with your diplomat

Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat.

Ain't it hard when you discover that

He really wasn't where it's at 

After he took from you everything he could steal ?

How does it feel ?

How does it feel ?

To have ya’ on your own ?

With no direction home ?

Like a complete unknown ?

Like a rolling stone ?

Aw, princess on the steeple and all the pretty people

They're all drinkin', thinkin' that they’ve got it made.

Exchanging all precious gifts, 

But you'd better take your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe.

You used to be so amused

At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used.

Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse.

When you ain’t got nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose

You're invisible now, you’ve got no secrets to conceal.

How does it feel ?

Aw, how does it feel ?

To be on your own ?

With no direction home ?

Like a complete unknown ?

Like a rolling stone ?

Youtube is an amazing tool- but sometimes seeing the words in-front of your face- is all the brain really needs. And a good night's rest. 

Vanilla Sky

David: Do you remember what you told me once? That every 

passing minute is a another chance to turn it all around. 

Sofía: I'll find you again. 

David: I'll see you in another life... when we are both cats. 

Barnes&Drama

It's been quite the eventful evening here at the Barnes&Noble.  Cell phone conversations can result in bad break-ups, finding Jesus, and who to steer clear of next year at summer camp.

 Thinking I was safe amongst the war novels (who reads those?) but dangerously close to the Ladies bathroom, I encountered a nasty break-up.  I didn't catch her name, as she wasn't speaking in the third person, but this Brian character did not get the hint. She must have repeated twenty times that she was sleep deprived, and if you love someone you let them go! Dammit! 

And the gentleman on the telephone in the next isle was just as  aggravated with the individual on the other end. "It's not like a Quija board, you have to ask Jesus what pages you need to go to.  Not just open the book and pick a page."  I'm thinking he was reforming a Quija Board using wizard to Christianity.

Though this final conversation didn't take place via cell phone, but rather two girls passing, "He was a real player at camp." I can't help but wonder what kind of character this cat is the other 51 weeks of the year. 

Pass The Pastels, and Pour The Wine

My best friend, Claude... The Dog Bounty Hunter (A nick-name bestowed upon him by my Step-Father) was given said nick-name when he flew to Denver to drive back to Alabama with me. It has a ring to it, this I can admit, but it does cause a bit of alarm in my book.  Am I the convict on the run?

Moving along, Claude and I signed up for this art class at the art museum for Thursday nights.  Divulging the truth here, the title is what caught my eye. "Sip N Sketch" If only my art teacher in high school had supplied us with wine, I undoubtedly would have been an A+ student.

   

It was a very therapeutic evening. Claude "The Dog Bounty Hunter" is a natural born artist, and has some pretty amazing work.  Once I unshackled my intimidation of the other students, I picked up those pastels and found my muse amongst the still life table

Edvard Munch's The Scream

Buckling down

And letting the pastel chalk do its 'thang. 

Once the Bounty Hunter found his still life muse

Borrowing my 9th grade math teacher's mantra when he needed me back in my own seat, Claude "focused like a laser" 

I'll just go ahead and toot both of our horns. I see frames in the near future of these masterpiece's lives.