Uncle Remus

I started this blog for narcissistic, ego-related reasons, and to lick wounds from my encounter with certain chromosomaly incomplete types at the SSO.
BUT.
Somehow I got to making religious and even political remarks that always seem wrong the moment I post them. It's like sparring with the tar baby, each remark seems to generate further thought until I am saddled with a fractally generated forest of my own inability to come to a conclusion and I am stuck up a viscous creek without a punch line.
So let's try this one.
I love, respect and accept everybody. It sometimes pains me that the religioue want to separate themselves from those of us who are willing to spend our lives here on earth where we were put in the first place. My heart remains open to them all.
It sometimes pains me that politics deliberatly creates conflict that strains the basic goodness that I believe is at the core of the human heart.
Said core resides in the left ventrical, if I remember my Gray's
It is springtime, time to attend the garden and look forward with wonder to what may grow this year, and can you smoke it.
Wasn't it Socrates who said "There will be growth in the spring"?
I know it was somebody like that.
Anyway I feel caught up in things I had not anticipated.
Like having my poetry compared to Eddie Poe's.
I realise I asked for it by posting my raven 'toon, and deep down inside I knew that mine could never compare, and then again, I'd already posted some of Emily D's.
I've been getting this strange premonition lately that Emily wants to tell me something.
I can't imagine how she could be able to do so, being a bodily deprived sort, but there are more things on earth than are dreamed of in your own peculier plans for the future.
I suppose her grave might be fortuitously located at a wi-fi hot spot or something.
I await with bated breath, not unlike the cat who ate the cheese.

I have got to get a submission in the mail today. It's a short orchestral piece for a competition for a reading by the Minnesota Orchestra Composers Institute.
Looking at the flyer just now, I see that it's for more than a reading. It's a whole week of intense work with the orchestra.
I, who am unable to take anything seriously for more than a few minutes, wonder about that.
Perhaps I will list my SSO experience as part of my "short bio", that ought to keep me from winning.
Winning is so final! The end of hope!

Last year, I submitted a concerto, even though the rules clearly stipulate "NO CONCERTOS"
Earlier years I counted heavily on incompetence.
Every time I write the word "incompetence" I have to fight down a desire to deliberatly misspell it, just to try to be funny, even though I don't think it would be funny.
So, where we now?
I've shown you the cars I still own, soon you will see the cars I built, the ones before the Amphibian.
My whistle seems to be in decreshendo. I am running out of steam.
Just remember, anything you don't understand....is supposed to be a joke.