Missed Connection ("Kestrel")

This past Tuesday, or a few weeks ago Friday. Glimpsed you on Congress Street, slowly rotating a kestrel. I was going to suggest you might be more successful with a more sedentary, flightless bird, but my mouth was full of marzipan and I didn't want you to think I was a mumbler. You were beautiful, then.

You slid a record on the turntable, the soundtrack to Disney's "The Lion King", and I was surprised to find that when reversed, the song "Hakuna Matata" was clearly stating: "Art Tatum, a new car". It made sense, as the last vehicle the jazz pianist was seen driving was a rusting Bentley with missing hubcaps.

I'd been riding cold medicine for days, so I'm not sure it happened. You might be a figment of my imagination. But, extrapolating Descartes, I think you think, therefore I think you are. Though a brick does not think, I think it exists as well, as I was struck by one in a mugging last February, and the pain was very real. Justifying existence makes my head spin. Will you be the one to take a hold of it for me, so I don't get dizzy?

Delirious responses only.

Opening Themes

I believe I should begin by saying, "Welcome to Ritalin Hum!" and move into the reasons that pharmaceutical companies and Irish bands should not sue me.

Welcome to Ritalin Hum!

This blog is not about drugs, and neither advocates nor decries the FINE products that our TIRELESSLY toiling HEROES in the pharmaceutical industry have to offer EACH AND EVERY DAY to MAKE OUR LIVES BETTER. Often at quite reasonable prices.

Neither am I a fan or detractor of the notoriously litigious POP PHENOMENON known as U2, fronted by famously ALTRUISTIC SUPERSTAR Bono and distinctive in its LARGELY UNDERRATED guitar work from slightly-less-legendary "The Edge", a man so MINDBOGGLINGLY COOL that simply renaming himself as a sharp object was not enough- he had to distinguish himself at the top of the sharp object heirarchy by appending the definite article.

Some things that I will write about:

• ghosts
• teddy bears
• etymology
• dystopia
• car accidents
• the inevitable collision of the Earth and the sun

... and anything else that might strike me as funny.

I suffer from Infinite Personality Disorder, a little known condition wherein a writer cannot, no matter how hard he tries, find his "voice". Therefore you will be subject to my experiments in style in much the same way as a laboratory bunny is subject to being sprayed in the face with popular fragrances. You may feel a burning sensation.

In closing, welcome. Thanks for stopping by. The eye-wash facilities are located in the corridor to the left.