Oh, I am a piece of work. God must be keeping me alive to see just how the story ends. You know how when you drop your guard and trust the world, the universe provides exactly what you want, and then you run away? You don’t? Anyway, I caught myself in time, but it was tense. It’s been tense with me for at least a hundred years.
There might be a house near here, more or less. From which one could walk to there, in fact, with a little gumption. Just by using trails, I mean. No roads. And here I was ready to move to someplace green and maybe with an ocean.
Can’t scheme it out no more. It doesn’t work like that, this stacking toothpicks in a gale. No wonder I have been so lost. There are other forces. A surfing analogy might work by sticking to gigantic waves. Sharks and swimmers in the backlit crest, oh my. See me hanging in the air before I’m slammed into the sand.
My wife is off to Minnesota for a week. I will shave and lose ten pounds and vacuum.
Carry on.
John Hamilton Farr lives at 7,000 feet in Ranchos de Taos, New Mexico, U.S.A. As New York Times best-selling author James C. Moore tells it, John is “a man attuned to the world who sees it differently than you and I and writes about it with a language and a vision of life that is impossible to ignore.” This JHFARR.COM site is the master writing archive. To email John, please see CONTACT INFO on .png)
I can dig it. Especially that part about the 10 pounds.