One airplane headed East, one cat on the walk and Budda has taken to balancing himself on one of my smaller tables. I still can't correlate Budda's strange behaviour with natural disasters.
I was accompanied on my walk this morning with my iPod by Kris Kristofferson and his gravelly voice. That man is a true poet, using words to generate images. And makes it rhyme.... and then sets it to music. Mystical!
With regard to yesterday's entry, I have come to terms that in some universe, somewhere there is a George W Bush who is an altruistic hero of the people. But in my heart I know the probability of that universe being real is infinitely tiny, even vanishingly small the probability asymptotically approaching zero. All this making String Theory more real.
Taiko Drums this Sunday in Monterrey Park.
The prepositions in that sentence about the IPod are strange enough to show that we're all on this flight together.
Dick
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