"2021: The Great Album"
Dear Readers,
Happy Today.
Where and when to start? Um. Don't know.
There are 30 stories to write, 3 to publish, four to get ready and five to remember.
I have been in hyper creative mode since just after Christmas, maybe a bit longer.
Gee okay, got to go with the flow, white water flow, down hill river runs, the river Coney Fork river, crosses I-40 through Tennessee I think 4 to 6 times, even after trying to count them the fourth time over them, we still seem to have gotten the count wrong. But yesterday the 2nd of Jan. we were all three looking and counting on our way back here, from my brother's new house in Knoxville, Tn. Up and down round and curves and criss cross star crossed river and road runners were singing a song, and Charles was thinking of keeping track of the hyper hyper hyper mania mood mode from making his dad nervous as they tripped home, spinning weaved running through a space time continuum we call life.
Wow did I just write that right? Don't know, I don't edit my own posts much. People are always telling me that I have to have my own editors, people that will edit what I write so that I can get my point across better. But who better to edit my own thoughts than God himself. Heck I can't keep track of all my own thoughts, all my own actions, as it is. Then they tell me that someone else can??!! What the heck, do they think they know about me, that I don't already don't know? I haven't a clue, I stop listening when they tell me things that I have already thought about, but can't seem to get across to them even if I have to yell at them 5 times in a row to stop mucking up the view of my rear view mirror by sticking their head forward where I can't see backwards while looking forward, just off to the side a bit. Driving at 90 miles an hour is not something that you do with someone telling you what to do, all the time, unless you are NasCar, Indy or lemo-zzzine drivers out running cruise missiles. I was reminded a few times that I don't have my own Van, or car anymore. Why! Well cause I am massively manic depressive now and that drug just don't work anymore for me. Speed demon flash racing, sitting still in a traffic jam, but with a courier job to do, getting said packages to said locales as fast as possible within a set time limit. I have done a lot of jobs I loved in my life. Chef, Driver, map maker, People Protector, thought projector, and a few more I would rather just not tell you about, Well I can't tell you about, They that know me in those jobs, would rather I know better than to tell you, well sorry dudes and dudettes I just can't it is a um State c-crete. Laughs a bit more insane than I want too, but being totally silent so as not to wake the sleeping, dead, not dead, but otherwise saner folks nearby.
I can drive like a bat out of somewhere to somewhere, dodging and racing, twisting and turning, spinning like a flying wing but racing in mind and manner like a race car driver, yet typing and then thinking and then not quite all that great at typing 120 words per minute, but editing and thinking about the words streaming from my head and hands while also keeping the chaos at bay. Yes I am hyper mapping the space time themed race of thinking right now. But what do you do when you have a dead line to make, you have left just in the nick of time, sliced the edge because you have to get somewhere, can't tell the cars around you to move out of your way, but then have to plot a course and get there none the less, and not get slowed by those flashing lights you are scanning your field of view for, but have hyper-miled your speed and then pushed your skills of plotting a race course through time and space and getting to the movie house on time to not miss a show you want to see, but the cars around you don't know you want to see and wouldn't care to know what you are thinking, but they see you or don't till you flash past them and they freak out as you are doing faster than the conditions for them warrant. But you have honed a skill set to the point that you can now type 120 words a minute and edit as you type and think the story that you lived a set time ago. Story telling of the past, faster than the last person that you told it too. Reality that they will be reading about but you lived just 6 years ago.
I was driving once to a movie all the way on the other side of the county, out my side door, down the side roads, off over the I-430 river bridge, then zipping down a road less traveled by me in the last 10 years of not being in town, and then going to the place for the first time ever only to pass by people that were in your future but you did not know it then, yet later they told you and then you thought,,,, have I been here before, and you had forgotten, yet you had been, and now thinking back in the story tellers mode, you remember the things that you thought then. Wow a James Bond movie, I want to see I got to get there I have 10 minutes to drive in the distance that can't be driven in that amount of time at the stated legal limit. So you drive a bit faster than normal and you scan the road ahead and plan the time line to the millisecond, but just zone in on the time driving zoner skills of the honed skills that your father taught you, but you honed by driving at night on dark roads in Mississippi while just getting out of your own skin, School can be stressful enough without also needing to unwind by rewinding down dark roads you don't know till you drive them at limits that far out class every other person you know.
Mic Chow said, I trust you Papa Chuck. A nickname, amoung others, I prefer Charles, I will answer to several, but if you don't know me and I don't know you, " hey You!" will work too.
I had Mic, tell me when my speed reached 55 miles per hour. I was running 1/4 of a mile till I had to slow down to not become airborne as the bridge top to bridge top was 1/4 of a mile about, apart. I was playing crazy car games. In the dark road out in the middle of know not where, outside the limits of Starkville Mississippi It would have been while my brother was still living in the dorms with me, but before he met his wife, or there abouts, so lets say pre-1990.
Yesterday we had a head wind most of the time and I was not driving I was look out, but from the back passenger seat side, could see my dad's side face, not front face, but was hyper and needing to be the best I could be while being the best I didn't need to be me. I was and have been in hyper mania mode for the past year. Okay this is the first few days of the new year, so I can pull a few ironic puns out of my hot headed hard hat, which I only wear when I have too. I have been doing the mania upswing for about 6 days, which is a long time, days like this the balancing act of being me goes into high gear, and I have the skills to balance rocks on sticks and sticks on head, and walk and talk while doing stunning things, but I have to be relaxed and calm when I do some things, not easy when you are manic.
God gave me what I am, who I am is his to mould and mold and hold and all the other "old" would be words I could fill this tongue twisted sister of a sentence with if I could rap the Xoda as I often do. But the brief point is. God Only Knows. And at times I haven't a clue till I have typed it what I was going to say, or could have said, but didn't. The editor of the bible was whom?
Is God your co-pilot or is he steering your car while you sit at the wheel with your eyes closed, asking him to guide you down a dark and lonely road you have never been before?
I don't know about you, but I took my hands off the steering wheel enough times that I have scared a few passengers into never riding with me again. Yet they also know if they needed to get somewhere fast and safe, I am the Man. Yet I don't own my own car now. And sooner or later I might have to be sane enough to do that again. Just not yet, as I don't have too, Thank God.
But I have the skills honed by constant exposure to God to tell you, 120 words a minute don't last long, then the push slows a bit and the mind says, Whew that was a fun ride, now to sit down and let them James Bond thrill rides begin. Yay me, James Bond is back again this year.
James, Brother dear, we got to plan this album out, we only have 9 years to get it out, or just 10 days to publish it, and get the music set to the blog time line punch line of the Xoda Rap artist and the master of runs of tune "YOU" . So I am telling you, all my readers far and wide.
Nice lady at the Ruby Tuesday's Bar, enjoy the crisp Dollar, wish I had had more, but I do tender the bills to the kitchen cooks at the Spectator's Pub in North Little Rock Arkansas, just ask about it, Josh, Chris, or Brad will tell you the scope of the scoop. I am a Trend, they hope spins up to span all their other customers.
I know that some of the patrons do help the kitchen staff, but outside the bar, and he don't work there anymore, but the lawyer dude, who's name I don't know off hand, but who's face I still remember was dong the trend of helping before me. Though I don't know the extent of the issues, I do know others have money to burn, I burn things all the time. Just not the bridges I have formed.
In closing I was going to write a story, had in mind to post it here, but might have to wait till I can freeze the frost off my toes, the name of the story is a short set of words and ideas that my Brother James, Not Bond, but James the Man, from the clan Owens.
...............
The lights of the car sank and sank, and the tank was filling with gasoline as the driver tried to lift his head above water, help me his thoughts said, then his world went dark and........
Was that lights in the pond again, only one week or so since someone else did that same thing, I scanned the shore line and Thought, Oh No, U F O the thing is getting brighter then, Pop with a flash it was out.
The rumors were I was crazy anyway, whom did I tell?
No one it seems, I just put out my smoke and went back inside.
..............
The End....... or is that a good enough teaser to give to your friend, James?
Hugglies, wavelets and to all my friends and family happy Today.
Yours in Christ,
Charles.
May the peace that can't be understood fully be yours forever.
Happy Today.
Where and when to start? Um. Don't know.
There are 30 stories to write, 3 to publish, four to get ready and five to remember.
I have been in hyper creative mode since just after Christmas, maybe a bit longer.
Gee okay, got to go with the flow, white water flow, down hill river runs, the river Coney Fork river, crosses I-40 through Tennessee I think 4 to 6 times, even after trying to count them the fourth time over them, we still seem to have gotten the count wrong. But yesterday the 2nd of Jan. we were all three looking and counting on our way back here, from my brother's new house in Knoxville, Tn. Up and down round and curves and criss cross star crossed river and road runners were singing a song, and Charles was thinking of keeping track of the hyper hyper hyper mania mood mode from making his dad nervous as they tripped home, spinning weaved running through a space time continuum we call life.
Wow did I just write that right? Don't know, I don't edit my own posts much. People are always telling me that I have to have my own editors, people that will edit what I write so that I can get my point across better. But who better to edit my own thoughts than God himself. Heck I can't keep track of all my own thoughts, all my own actions, as it is. Then they tell me that someone else can??!! What the heck, do they think they know about me, that I don't already don't know? I haven't a clue, I stop listening when they tell me things that I have already thought about, but can't seem to get across to them even if I have to yell at them 5 times in a row to stop mucking up the view of my rear view mirror by sticking their head forward where I can't see backwards while looking forward, just off to the side a bit. Driving at 90 miles an hour is not something that you do with someone telling you what to do, all the time, unless you are NasCar, Indy or lemo-zzzine drivers out running cruise missiles. I was reminded a few times that I don't have my own Van, or car anymore. Why! Well cause I am massively manic depressive now and that drug just don't work anymore for me. Speed demon flash racing, sitting still in a traffic jam, but with a courier job to do, getting said packages to said locales as fast as possible within a set time limit. I have done a lot of jobs I loved in my life. Chef, Driver, map maker, People Protector, thought projector, and a few more I would rather just not tell you about, Well I can't tell you about, They that know me in those jobs, would rather I know better than to tell you, well sorry dudes and dudettes I just can't it is a um State c-crete. Laughs a bit more insane than I want too, but being totally silent so as not to wake the sleeping, dead, not dead, but otherwise saner folks nearby.
I can drive like a bat out of somewhere to somewhere, dodging and racing, twisting and turning, spinning like a flying wing but racing in mind and manner like a race car driver, yet typing and then thinking and then not quite all that great at typing 120 words per minute, but editing and thinking about the words streaming from my head and hands while also keeping the chaos at bay. Yes I am hyper mapping the space time themed race of thinking right now. But what do you do when you have a dead line to make, you have left just in the nick of time, sliced the edge because you have to get somewhere, can't tell the cars around you to move out of your way, but then have to plot a course and get there none the less, and not get slowed by those flashing lights you are scanning your field of view for, but have hyper-miled your speed and then pushed your skills of plotting a race course through time and space and getting to the movie house on time to not miss a show you want to see, but the cars around you don't know you want to see and wouldn't care to know what you are thinking, but they see you or don't till you flash past them and they freak out as you are doing faster than the conditions for them warrant. But you have honed a skill set to the point that you can now type 120 words a minute and edit as you type and think the story that you lived a set time ago. Story telling of the past, faster than the last person that you told it too. Reality that they will be reading about but you lived just 6 years ago.
I was driving once to a movie all the way on the other side of the county, out my side door, down the side roads, off over the I-430 river bridge, then zipping down a road less traveled by me in the last 10 years of not being in town, and then going to the place for the first time ever only to pass by people that were in your future but you did not know it then, yet later they told you and then you thought,,,, have I been here before, and you had forgotten, yet you had been, and now thinking back in the story tellers mode, you remember the things that you thought then. Wow a James Bond movie, I want to see I got to get there I have 10 minutes to drive in the distance that can't be driven in that amount of time at the stated legal limit. So you drive a bit faster than normal and you scan the road ahead and plan the time line to the millisecond, but just zone in on the time driving zoner skills of the honed skills that your father taught you, but you honed by driving at night on dark roads in Mississippi while just getting out of your own skin, School can be stressful enough without also needing to unwind by rewinding down dark roads you don't know till you drive them at limits that far out class every other person you know.
Mic Chow said, I trust you Papa Chuck. A nickname, amoung others, I prefer Charles, I will answer to several, but if you don't know me and I don't know you, " hey You!" will work too.
I had Mic, tell me when my speed reached 55 miles per hour. I was running 1/4 of a mile till I had to slow down to not become airborne as the bridge top to bridge top was 1/4 of a mile about, apart. I was playing crazy car games. In the dark road out in the middle of know not where, outside the limits of Starkville Mississippi It would have been while my brother was still living in the dorms with me, but before he met his wife, or there abouts, so lets say pre-1990.
Yesterday we had a head wind most of the time and I was not driving I was look out, but from the back passenger seat side, could see my dad's side face, not front face, but was hyper and needing to be the best I could be while being the best I didn't need to be me. I was and have been in hyper mania mode for the past year. Okay this is the first few days of the new year, so I can pull a few ironic puns out of my hot headed hard hat, which I only wear when I have too. I have been doing the mania upswing for about 6 days, which is a long time, days like this the balancing act of being me goes into high gear, and I have the skills to balance rocks on sticks and sticks on head, and walk and talk while doing stunning things, but I have to be relaxed and calm when I do some things, not easy when you are manic.
God gave me what I am, who I am is his to mould and mold and hold and all the other "old" would be words I could fill this tongue twisted sister of a sentence with if I could rap the Xoda as I often do. But the brief point is. God Only Knows. And at times I haven't a clue till I have typed it what I was going to say, or could have said, but didn't. The editor of the bible was whom?
Is God your co-pilot or is he steering your car while you sit at the wheel with your eyes closed, asking him to guide you down a dark and lonely road you have never been before?
I don't know about you, but I took my hands off the steering wheel enough times that I have scared a few passengers into never riding with me again. Yet they also know if they needed to get somewhere fast and safe, I am the Man. Yet I don't own my own car now. And sooner or later I might have to be sane enough to do that again. Just not yet, as I don't have too, Thank God.
But I have the skills honed by constant exposure to God to tell you, 120 words a minute don't last long, then the push slows a bit and the mind says, Whew that was a fun ride, now to sit down and let them James Bond thrill rides begin. Yay me, James Bond is back again this year.
James, Brother dear, we got to plan this album out, we only have 9 years to get it out, or just 10 days to publish it, and get the music set to the blog time line punch line of the Xoda Rap artist and the master of runs of tune "YOU" . So I am telling you, all my readers far and wide.
Nice lady at the Ruby Tuesday's Bar, enjoy the crisp Dollar, wish I had had more, but I do tender the bills to the kitchen cooks at the Spectator's Pub in North Little Rock Arkansas, just ask about it, Josh, Chris, or Brad will tell you the scope of the scoop. I am a Trend, they hope spins up to span all their other customers.
I know that some of the patrons do help the kitchen staff, but outside the bar, and he don't work there anymore, but the lawyer dude, who's name I don't know off hand, but who's face I still remember was dong the trend of helping before me. Though I don't know the extent of the issues, I do know others have money to burn, I burn things all the time. Just not the bridges I have formed.
In closing I was going to write a story, had in mind to post it here, but might have to wait till I can freeze the frost off my toes, the name of the story is a short set of words and ideas that my Brother James, Not Bond, but James the Man, from the clan Owens.
...............
The lights of the car sank and sank, and the tank was filling with gasoline as the driver tried to lift his head above water, help me his thoughts said, then his world went dark and........
Was that lights in the pond again, only one week or so since someone else did that same thing, I scanned the shore line and Thought, Oh No, U F O the thing is getting brighter then, Pop with a flash it was out.
The rumors were I was crazy anyway, whom did I tell?
No one it seems, I just put out my smoke and went back inside.
..............
The End....... or is that a good enough teaser to give to your friend, James?
Hugglies, wavelets and to all my friends and family happy Today.
Yours in Christ,
Charles.
May the peace that can't be understood fully be yours forever.
posted by Charles Edward Owens Jr. at 1:19 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home