I’ve wondered, and been asked, just how an reasonably intelligent person like me can write one rambling wreck of a blog. This despite my well-known ability (at least at work) to put intelligent sentences together in to a paragraph.
Wow -- it’s all about me today - I’m Jones’ing now!
It’s simple, like dancing kernel-to-kernel across an ear of corn, preferably the multi-hued Indian corn that so confounds the eye. You pick a spot to start and, well, you start. It doesn’t matter where you start since it has no relationship or bearing on where you’ll end up. Kind of like the famous Hollywood game, ‘Seven Degrees of Kevin Bacon,’ in which we all are related to Kevin at most seven times removed.
So, I skip-hop-dawdle-puddle hop-jump from topic to topic however I wish. At some point, I’m hit by time limits, common sense, aneurysm of the humor bone, or my keyboard’s refusal to type any more of my drivel.
BAM! The truth hurts, but some of my stuff confuses even me afterward. It’s a shame because my decoder ring should work retroactively, right? Hey, I hear laughter out in the gallery. Do you know something that I don’t?!
As revenge, I throw this (real) song quote at you as something that starts ordinarily and ends up on the dark side of some moon:
And the thing that you’re hearing
is the low spark of high-heeled boys.
Steve Winwood & Traffic