let slip the hounds

The morning has been disturbing thus far, the first words that filtered into my brain were the monkees. There is nothing more jarring than hearing Davie Jones muttering about the last train to clarksville when you're not even sure where you are.

As I huddle in "Bunker Childs" bracing myself for what the day plans to throw at me, my eyes wander to the window, vast stretches of building, human ice cube trays, a thousand stories taking place while I drink the morning coffee. Against the silhouette of a gray curtain, I ponder the thousands of lives that are changing while I watch. Is that couple breaking up, while I ponder the cryptic crossword, is that man contemplating suicide while I read the editorials?

It's easy to become self absorbed, and that's what I've become in the past few weeks. I'm not sure why it happened, it seems to come over me once in awhile, so as of today, October 6, 2005 my period of introspection has come to an end for the time being.

When my views switch from the introspective to the retrospective, my life becomes a lot simpler. Looking outside is a lot easier than looking in. When I uncover what's going on between my ears, it's like lifting a piece of cardboard on the dirt and seeing all the worms squiggling.

So....it's happy music for the next few days, I'm thinking Scott Joplin's rags will get a spin on the CD player today. The stones are spinning on the laser turntable now, getting the energy going for the weekly housecleaning.

As I ponder what to read my eyes wander of the shelves, perhaps some Conrad, for most of my life Joseph Conrad has consistently provided the best escapes for me. I include William Shakespeare in this, but Joseph Conrad is truly the finest artisan of the english language. Perhaps it's because english was his second language (polish being the first). His turn of a phrase, his mastery of the word, unlike any other authour I've ever read I'm transported to his world.