wondering what time it's getting to be...it's almost 30 degrees here now, you think I should let my nine year old walk home in the snow?
I'm sitting around in the post 'no book published world of munk' and wondering what's going on...all those dreams I had as a kid, the places I've been and the thoughts I've thunk. Just to follow and bear with, understand and record the thoughts alone...madness....the camera lens would break...'if my thought dreams could be seen, they'd probably put my head, in a gullotine"... a proper Christian had no business listening to all those thoughts and ideas over the years, my own internal television; OK, I'll say it; munk vision.
So I called my wife this afternoon, let her know I had a long talk wth Yangdu about writing and writing absurd stuff here in HI.....My wife was so convinced the God of Abraham was going to publish me...almost had me convinced too.
She'd even started to lose weight. I'm not kidding you.
"Well, you know all those blonde bimbos you thought would show up and want my autograph?" I asked over the phone. "They aint coming."
That's a strange phone too; they built a new school on the Reservation,it used to be when you called the whole school was shut down and everyone gathered around the only phone in the building to see who called....
"Is it still like that?"
"You took me out of session," She said, "there's still only two lines."
You think someone could drag another line out to that poor town? I dunno. Yangdu says it's going to be a long time before they get all the school kids in Nepal a computer, let alone the continental US.
"Son," I told him with bleary eyes this am, 'there are worse fates than being 50, writing a few sticks, moderating a forum, and getting to hike and chop wood with you."
"Uh huh" He gave me hug.
"We got khuks,we're heavily armed, we've ammo, places to hike, hunt and fish; life aint so bad, is it?"
"No."
"Maybe you'll write the book. Get started early- hell, you got until 30, or maybe even 40, just don't wait until fifty, and don't drink away all your time like I did."
"Whats wrong with fifty?" He asked.
I don't know, what is wrong with fifty? It's not too bad, is it?"
"No".
I wiggled my arms. "My legs still work too," I said.
I drove him to school. "Out damned scholars," I yelled like WC Fields, "go forth and learn."
The ten year old Honda pulled away in the snow and whistled home.
>>>>>
When I got home I remembered the joke. It's got to be a gene; I must have a gene which convinces people I'm about to be published, seperate from an actual getting published gene, this gene just casts the illusion of inchoate books to be....my entire life people have said this to me.....called me mean names, said I was a psychology student, or one of them 'authors'...
munk
I'm sitting around in the post 'no book published world of munk' and wondering what's going on...all those dreams I had as a kid, the places I've been and the thoughts I've thunk. Just to follow and bear with, understand and record the thoughts alone...madness....the camera lens would break...'if my thought dreams could be seen, they'd probably put my head, in a gullotine"... a proper Christian had no business listening to all those thoughts and ideas over the years, my own internal television; OK, I'll say it; munk vision.
So I called my wife this afternoon, let her know I had a long talk wth Yangdu about writing and writing absurd stuff here in HI.....My wife was so convinced the God of Abraham was going to publish me...almost had me convinced too.
She'd even started to lose weight. I'm not kidding you.
"Well, you know all those blonde bimbos you thought would show up and want my autograph?" I asked over the phone. "They aint coming."
That's a strange phone too; they built a new school on the Reservation,it used to be when you called the whole school was shut down and everyone gathered around the only phone in the building to see who called....
"Is it still like that?"
"You took me out of session," She said, "there's still only two lines."
You think someone could drag another line out to that poor town? I dunno. Yangdu says it's going to be a long time before they get all the school kids in Nepal a computer, let alone the continental US.
"Son," I told him with bleary eyes this am, 'there are worse fates than being 50, writing a few sticks, moderating a forum, and getting to hike and chop wood with you."
"Uh huh" He gave me hug.
"We got khuks,we're heavily armed, we've ammo, places to hike, hunt and fish; life aint so bad, is it?"
"No."
"Maybe you'll write the book. Get started early- hell, you got until 30, or maybe even 40, just don't wait until fifty, and don't drink away all your time like I did."
"Whats wrong with fifty?" He asked.
I don't know, what is wrong with fifty? It's not too bad, is it?"
"No".
I wiggled my arms. "My legs still work too," I said.
I drove him to school. "Out damned scholars," I yelled like WC Fields, "go forth and learn."
The ten year old Honda pulled away in the snow and whistled home.
>>>>>
When I got home I remembered the joke. It's got to be a gene; I must have a gene which convinces people I'm about to be published, seperate from an actual getting published gene, this gene just casts the illusion of inchoate books to be....my entire life people have said this to me.....called me mean names, said I was a psychology student, or one of them 'authors'...
munk
