Why I Don't Wear A Watch

I don't want to be burdened by the construct that is time. I want to live for the moment and not have it measured by the relentless cycling of the second hand. Each experience doesn't need to be framed by a unit and marked forever. And though I know we must all agree to use this little agent so we can make our appointments, I will make it serve me, not I it.

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I've tried watches, but I feel much better without a strap pinched around my wrist. I am relaxed, and I am John. Odd though, I love the face of a watch, I even have a small collection - in a box in my closet. I like clocks, too. Just not when they're running.

It Boggles the Mind...

Madcap, ambidextrous, silly, naked, versatile, and of course... curious! Who could resist the whimsical charms of that naughty little monkey, Curious George? Oh what fun we had as children following his harrowing adventures to their loving conclusion featuring the unconditional love and forgiveness of the Man with the Yellow Hat. Funny how George was never told his name. Certainly he didn't call the Man with the Yellow Hat (who we'll call "Mellohat") by his full fake-name! He must have employed some kind of handle when he spoke to him. Like after marriage, when your spouse's actual name becomes less and less used... replaced intead by handles, nicknames, and shortcuts... such as: "Honey," "Hon," "Hey you," and a low gutteral sound I don't know how to spell. So I'm thinking: Perhaps George developed a handle for Mellohat? Of course if you notice, George never speaks (only shrieks) in the books, so maybe a name wasn't necessary. Well I've got this doorstop called, The Complete Adventures of Curious George, and my daughter's been wanting a story from it every night. Boy, does it bring back memories! Say, why do we arbritarily say "Boy, Man, Girl-FRIEND..." as an expression? Why not "Monkey, Celery Stick, or Paint Can" for that matter? But I digress. Ah yes, memories... Reading Curious George brings back memories. What a delightful series! But one thing troubled me tonight as I read, Curious George Flies a Kite. It was this: George is blustering about high in the air, the victim of his own darn curiousity and a runaway kite. The stakes are high, and there is no way out. When suddenly, in swoops Mellohat piloting a helicopter - all by himself! After much derry-doo, George is hoisted aboard via a line from the chopper, and all is well as George adopts a bunny in the final scenes. But I ask this: George is flying fast through the skies, so the boy who was with him bikes back across town to tell Mellohat, who, on THE VERY NEXT PAGE is rescuing George in the copter! HOW, I ask? Forget that there has been absolutely no foreshadowing whatsoever that Mellohat even had such skills, but it is impossible for him to have the time to get to his local airstrip, gas up his helicopter, be cleared for takeoff, get up safely in that headwind, AND find George before he leaves the time zone! I am sorry H.A. Rey, but THAT I cannot believe!

trips i'd like to take...
-Fly down to the tip of South America, buy a beat-up van. Drive along the coast all the way to Alaska. Sell the van to the Smithsonian. Fly back home.
-Bicycle from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic Ocean.
-Tour Italy and Sardinia.
-Visit the Pacific Northwest.
-Circle the nation of Australia, following the coastline.
-Take a summer and visit every major league ballpark.

book I just finished: Bee Season by Myla Goldberg
Goldberg has skill, and crafts an intriguing story, but in the telling she bogs the reader down in narrative minutia. The initial tale of a 9-year-old spelling bee prodigy diverts into an explosive commentary on family dysfunction and Jewish mysticism. Grade: B-

On Henchmen
Every cinematic villan has at least one henchman. This employee is usually not a charm school graduate, a model or a scholar. Yet whatever we may judge in them as lacking, they more than make up for in loyalty.

They endure great hardships. I sense they lack affirmation from their supervisor and I presume, health care benefits.

Also, as burly and imposing as they appear to be, they are fairly easily defeated by the cinematic hero. Even a wiry hero is able to take down a whole slew of henchmen within five minutes of screen time.

The henchmen always seem to blunder their way into some easily avoidable snafu. They hit a brick wall after rushing too hard at the protaganist, who merely eludes them by stepping to the side. Or they end up in a big heap of fellow henchmen, caught up in a pile of arms and legs like a game of Twister gone awry.

that's me... at the Grand Ole Opry