Bontner Lives

wow this here dog training is a lot like working for a living with a kid strapped to my chest in one of those sling dealies that native peoples everywhere wears while working.

she's becoming an expo star at the instruction thing and her English skills are improving as are the intuitive fuzzies complimenting her mighty fine good looks to boot.

on the focused side of the sandwich during the day when wife is working her career to a whittling until she can hang it up and says been real, been fun but not real fun yo, the Bontner lives.

play like you own it

Somebody once said that we should play like we practice meaning we should always beat shit out of the taxi squad all week before the big gig or practice like we play and get shit beat out of us under the lights.

I just read a paper by some shrink in a tree house proclaiming the power of playing in a post-playing sense of rest is an important factor in delaying death by deader than shit from stress. The power of playing and having fun has shown to improve one's odds in the slot and by having a really good healthy day, salad or not, improves the substantial guilt-factor coping scale to a manageable level while jubilantly getting away with it.

I've always sorta known that in my own juvenile immature way. I knew playing football and playing hookie was fun and running with my dog was sublime and coupled up meant just plain live wire sublime fun and at my age today, except for the football part, what the fuck. I find fun wherever I find it. Having fun is the whole reason to breathe whether you like it or not so having fun to spare suits me fine as the Bon realizes I got the time. To have fun.

The cube farm is a termini of soul devouring tedium converging on the complacent idleness of Whatever and becoming the Dead By Death Syndrome so familiar to the retirees.

You have been warned.

sprungs

Scoot the chair and the dog jumps over it's dead self as you listen to the junebugs pelting your bonnet, wary as usual.

Nothing there. Dog resigns.

zzzzzzz

sand casting

I had the pleasure of listening to Dick Cheney this morning justify his life and his policies during his tenure in the White House all the while disagreeing with Obama claiming his policy is exposing the US to more terror attacks and of course displaying the usual brand of arrogance even when shown the GOP short comings across the board in the last 8 years. He even praised Rush Limbaugh calling him a good man. And the question was posed to him, why should anybody listen to you?

As Dick began to spin I left the room. It was Cheney's first interview since the change at the White House and I hope to never hear from him again. He can't lie good. I feel like washing my hands or taking a cold shower every time I hear Dick or his ex-boss pontificate. They're oily and smell like dead fish. I'm giving Obama all the rope he needs and a good dose of benefit of the doubt.

...on a lighter note, it seems that I'm doing a bang up job these days in my cluster sector and apparently my own self esteem refuses to acknowledge it even to my self but the results show that my efforts are producing the desired expectations and I should stop beating myself up just because some things are not readily visible. Need to look into that. When I examine all aspects of my actions I'm left with one conclusion; I'm doing the right thing. So why do I have these doubts? Because I'm operating without any true feed back other than mine thus there is a small splinter of doubt lingering in the back of my mind plus operating without a net over terrible waters? Who cares, I generally have to ignore this shit and write it off as a silly insecurity bullshit flea because I know I'm doing the right thing. I know and that's all that matters because I am Sparticus Marticus of The Welbious-On-The Tibious-Of-The Fibious! and don't forget it.

That's how I know.

highway revisited 61 times

bonny bonny boo bonny banana bana boo bonny bee bi boe bonny boo...


As the Path was well kept and navigable, my Zen kicked in and the Princess Bin nyot Pu will have to do as she plucks the pebble from my hand muhmuhring "yesssgrazzhoppah such chutzpa you has..." smiling through this side of moonlight and speeding on.

woa... The Path lives.

beware the Snides of March

I hate windy weather. It's the constantly roiling molecules wafting through my magnetic fields, the dust, the pollen, the aggravated ions all and it interferes with my electrical systems and makes my eyes itch and my damn nose run too woo woo that bothers me. It annoys me dammit janet for no apparent reason to you and yet it's so obvious to me. They's too many discharges and misfires in my circuits creating this this... this whatever when I stand in the teeth of cold wind that's been beating on my windows and doors for days & days and forcing a primordial response to aggressive weather and feeling hostile towards a drought on a windy day because of all the implications it has plus it gives me that crappy cooped up feeling I get staying out of the wind after I get home and I hate windy weather ashore more often than not because it's not as fun as windy weather offshore but still I would prefer quietude on demand going on a minute ago.

*note to self: must learn better coping skills.