The splattering of thoughts

--Lately, I've been in a fog; in a funk. I am working on resolving that. I know a lot of what is causing said funk. Some of it is certainly beyond my control. Other aspects are well within my control. Regardless, it's sucking up my creative energy.

--Would anyone care to start a conspiracy theory based on the simple fact that Republicans were in the whitehouse on the occasion of both Shuttle disasters?

--Uncle Cracker. He did a cover of "Drift Away". A one-hit wonder from some guy back in the 70s. I do not even remember his name. I care not for either version of the song.

--Taco performed the cover of Irving Berlin's "Puttin' on the Ritz". Not Paco, as a friend of mine incorrectly stated with a high degree of ill-placed confidence. Why I remember this piece of information, I will never know. If I cleared out all the space taken up in my brain with useless trivia, imagine what I could have done with it. Instead of being a brilliant theoretical physicist, or a champion in some field, Iam merely an above average chump who knows that Taco, not Paco, sang Puttin' on the Ritz. Shit.

--Iam starting to have a hard time finding my car in parking lots. Mainly because I am looking for a white wagon, and my vehicle is considerably less white. I see a car washing in my future.

--I have noticed that I am addicted to contractions. I believe that the use of general purpose contractions like "don't" and "I'm" are gateway words to harsher abuses of the language like "booyah", "hella", and anything uttered by Snoop-dog.

Monday

So far, today has been a good day. I traded days off with a coworker this week, as she needed Friday off. So, today, after sleeping comfortably in, I:

• Did yard work.


• Washed the formerly white car. Yay!


• Organized my cooking spices on new little cupboard organizer gadget.


• Ran assorted errands, some successful, some not.

I did manage to aquire the soundtrack to the Chicago Movie-Musical, and Dave Matthews Band's Busted Stuff.

I'm about to restring my geetar. But before I go, here are the lyrics to one of my favorite Chicago songs. It packs more double entendres in a catchy tune since Spinal Tap's "Big Bottom".

And with no further adieu...

WHEN YOU'RE GOOD TO MAMA
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My guitar is re-strung and plays notes as it should. Tomorrow my guitar class resumes. I am happy to say I still remember my chords and finger picking, even though I've been bereft of practicing. I clipped the nails on my left hand, and I'm ready to play!

I had purchased a book of sheet music to a boat-load of Bruce Springsteen songs. Atlantic City uses some of the basic chords I know and love. Em, G,C, G is one of the main patterns with a D chord thrown in every so often. Now if I can just get the right tempo and transition as fluidly as the Boss.

My Compaq Cradle still hasn't turned up. I suspect my cat has a secret treasure chest full of stuff he has made his own. While at Staples, I found a USB dual charge/sync device. Phew! My crisis is averted!

I suppose I should go to bed. Tomorrow is my annual review, as well as the normal work grind.