The life of a rock is fascinating. Think of salt- sodium chloride. Salt is the only rock that is people willingly eat. It has to get refined to be used safely for human consumption, but it is a rock. It’s life helps us add flavor to food, to retard spoiling of food, and with a little help of iodine drizzled on your salt, you can prevent nasty cretinism and goiter. The rock life is one that can roll without the help of Elvis. Think about the greats like Bob Dylan who pays homage to the stone in his most popular metaphoric song “Like a Rolling Stone.” The Rolling Stones even had to give themselves a sturdy name so they could get some respect in the music biz. Resorting to bold measures, truck companies once longed to be “Like a Rock.”
Rocks are special. They have collectors, movers, sellers, miners, and many other friends. With so few enemies, who wouldn’t want to live the rock life. Sure, you might get thrown, or crushed, but you always have a purpose. You are there being a rock for as long as you can. How legendary is that?
Awakening from a crazy dream, I realized I was sweating buckets. It was gross, but I woke up out of breath and scared as hell for no reason. I drempt (is that a word) that I was being flushed down a kitchen faucet. I fell into this pool and started to drown. I couldn’t swim. It was night and no one was there. I was in a closed park or residential pool that was locked. I ended up at the surface and security were calling the police and I was being questioned for “breaking and entering.” Then it started to shower with lightning all around me. At the crack of piercing thunder, I woke up.
I guess I’m partially sick. I have a sour taste in my mouth since the morning. I was going to go on a run today cuz I haven’t been active for a while. My stomach hurts so I took Pepto-Bismol. For breakfast, I had 4 cups of coffee and now I can’t stop moving. I’m bouncing around while reading, while doing laundry, and polluting the air with my singing of “Just Like a Woman.”
To top off everything my cat ran away this morning. It was a one year old tabby. My dad said he was going to look around the neighborhood, but he got home late from work. I am sad because I think he’s been made into a meal for the wild animals. My muscles are sore and now I finally think the coffee is taking its toll on me. Sorry to all who called me today; I haven’t been myself and twas feeling ornery for the better part of the day. I’m still going bowling this weekend.
TV sucks. I’m the kind of person who is never content with watching the boob tube for extended periods of time. I’d rather consciously lack thinking than be hypnotized by television and the promotional commercials. As a matter of fact, I sat down with the lights turned off, let in a hint of sunlight, and stared at my wall in my room for 10 minutes straight and tried to condense my thoughts. The 10 minutes last a lifetime, but the 600 seconds are quite pleasant.
“Beyond the Horizon,” from Modern Times by Bob Dylan was playing on the radio at 98.9 FM, more specifically on the show called American Roots. I might have to listen to that station more often. I was just skipping through stations and I heard the song. I’ve never heard a new tune by Dylan on the radio before; probably because I hardly listen and he doesn’t fit in commercially with all the other stations.