Fragments From Floyd

... I was blog-ging.

Sorry. We watched Forest Gump again this week. I couldn't help draw parallels when Forest left his problems behind and ran across America. And when he got to the big ocean, he jus' turned around and ran back where he started. He ran because he didn't know what else to do. People joined him because they thought there must be a deeper purpose to this man who would abandon all, let his beard grow, and just run. It works pretty well if you substitute blogging for running. I think I have reached the ocean. Okay everybody. Let's turn around and head back.

I'm curious. How many of you sang "Junior Birdman" (and of course you made the official Birdman Goggles, too.) You didn't? Maybe I ran with a different crowd.

Speaking of which... out the blue of the western sky, I got a surprise email a couple of days ago from my college roomie, Mike. Dang, he's got a daughter thirty years old and a grandchild! How'd he get so blamed old! Wait a minute. So do we. So. How do you catch up with someone you haven't seen in at least ten years?

And is it really possible to resist temptation to turn all those college-day escapades into blog posts? It's gotten to where everybody I know makes a point to keep their mouths shut when they're around me, thinking "I heard he even lampooned his own wife on public radio. How safe could I be from being his next target!?" Just kidding. Truth of the matter is, I'll be telling some horror story (about the ice or the dog or the truck, whatever) and while I'm re-enacting it, the other person is saying "Yeah, and I bet the whole time you were wondering if you'd ever get back to the house alive, you were thinking what a great thing that was gonna be to write about". Guilty, as charged. In the words of the immortal bard, "All the world's a blog".

And also in the "different crowd" category, while waiting in the library for the bad news about my truck, I picked up a freebee "BookPage" writing-newspaper and was scanning the new books in non-fiction. Hmmmm. Interesting title, that one. And the author... why, I used to know a Dennis Covington in high school. Couldn't be. Yep, it could. I found his email (out in Texas now) and sent him a "congrats", and have read a good bit about him. His latest book, Redneck Riviera, sounds interesting. You can hear an interview with Dennis about the book on Living on Earth.

Notwithstanding the sore throat that went from zero to sixty after dinner last night and the ensuing night of futility dreams that alternated with ones of swallowing scorpions, I am suffused today with bodaceous positivity after our time in town last night. There are a lot of synergisms happening in town as all the civic organizations are actually communicating with each other to coordinate efforts at grant writing forbeautification, developement of walking, bicycle and horse paths in the city and county, and find ways to identify and protect cultural and historical treasures before "they pave Paradise and put up a parking lot." There are some good writerly things happening, too. Last night, it felt as if we had finally arrived in Floyd.

These Rose Colored Glasses are brought to you by Intellicast, who delivered the message this morning that it is supposed to go up into the SIXTIES today! Get out da Tevas!