Schooldays
Today, I go back to school. At 3:30.
Even though I'm retired and independently wealthy (independent, anyway) and don't need to learn anything and don't need to get a degree in anything, I'm still nervous,. Probably because I've been working on the string pieces and the piano trios and I'm anxious to find what David has to say.
Yesterday, I went out to the UW music dept. and put up a notice to try to find some violinists.
We'll see.
My blog muse is out getting drunk or something.
Maybe it is gone for some much needed therapy.
What is the muse of blogging anyway?
Bloggo, perhaps? Bloggore?
Has the sound of turgidity which fits (this blog, anyway)
The only one I can ever remember is Erato, of poetry.
Oh, well there's Terpsichore, of dance.
And Tripsichore, the muse of clumsiness.
The muse of music escapes me (as anyone who has ever listened to my music is aware)
And a bunch of others none of whom are here with me today.
Hibernating, I suppose.
I'm reading a book about James Triptree Jr.
An interesting girl she was.
It turns out that quite a few S.F. writers were of the chromosomally challenged persuasion.
Maybe why I lost interest in the stuff.
My wife likes S.F., but that kind of escapism hasn't appealed to me for quite a while.
Since I was in the Army.
Which is a pretty bizarre fantasy world in itself.
As is academia.
I survived both and went in search of "objective reality"
Which divorces one from the imaginary realities that the schizophrenic ape seems to take so seriously.
(I think what Lane is trying to say here is that he is sane and we are all nuts)
Which is why I'm pissed off at the SSO.
Which I seem to think is so hilariously funny and you, of course, don't
But of course it (it being "life, the universe, and everything") is all a construct of the human imagination, which in itself is a product of the brain's chemical secretions.
Warning, Inane joke alert!
Dopamine, Serotonin, and Epinephrine were a singing trio known as the Braindrew sisters back in the forties. You often hear them on "The swing years and beyond" on NPR on Sat. nights.
I refuse to explain or apologize.
That's how you get to be a great leader.
Was that the lunch whistle!!
P.S. "99 & 44/100% pure" was (as you already know) the slogan for a soap product that was merely a bar of simple everyday soap that had been fluffed with about, lemmesee here .56% air.
It floated.
I can't imagine why anybody thought that was important.
I am simple, everyday, and puffed up with a much greater percentage of air.
I don't float, physically, intellectually, or artistically.
Even though I'm retired and independently wealthy (independent, anyway) and don't need to learn anything and don't need to get a degree in anything, I'm still nervous,. Probably because I've been working on the string pieces and the piano trios and I'm anxious to find what David has to say.
Yesterday, I went out to the UW music dept. and put up a notice to try to find some violinists.
We'll see.
My blog muse is out getting drunk or something.
Maybe it is gone for some much needed therapy.
What is the muse of blogging anyway?
Bloggo, perhaps? Bloggore?
Has the sound of turgidity which fits (this blog, anyway)
The only one I can ever remember is Erato, of poetry.
Oh, well there's Terpsichore, of dance.
And Tripsichore, the muse of clumsiness.
The muse of music escapes me (as anyone who has ever listened to my music is aware)
And a bunch of others none of whom are here with me today.
Hibernating, I suppose.
I'm reading a book about James Triptree Jr.
An interesting girl she was.
It turns out that quite a few S.F. writers were of the chromosomally challenged persuasion.
Maybe why I lost interest in the stuff.
My wife likes S.F., but that kind of escapism hasn't appealed to me for quite a while.
Since I was in the Army.
Which is a pretty bizarre fantasy world in itself.
As is academia.
I survived both and went in search of "objective reality"
Which divorces one from the imaginary realities that the schizophrenic ape seems to take so seriously.
(I think what Lane is trying to say here is that he is sane and we are all nuts)
Which is why I'm pissed off at the SSO.
Which I seem to think is so hilariously funny and you, of course, don't
But of course it (it being "life, the universe, and everything") is all a construct of the human imagination, which in itself is a product of the brain's chemical secretions.
Warning, Inane joke alert!
Dopamine, Serotonin, and Epinephrine were a singing trio known as the Braindrew sisters back in the forties. You often hear them on "The swing years and beyond" on NPR on Sat. nights.
I refuse to explain or apologize.
That's how you get to be a great leader.
Was that the lunch whistle!!
P.S. "99 & 44/100% pure" was (as you already know) the slogan for a soap product that was merely a bar of simple everyday soap that had been fluffed with about, lemmesee here .56% air.
It floated.
I can't imagine why anybody thought that was important.
I am simple, everyday, and puffed up with a much greater percentage of air.
I don't float, physically, intellectually, or artistically.
Labels: Choline, Dopamine, Epenephrine, Seratonin
posted by Lane Savant at 11:12 AM
4 comments
