The Next Big Thing

My generally mundane idyll has been turned upside down of late. And although the disruption may not be of cyclone or life-threatening proportions, it has blown up a fair degree of disarray in one way and another. I could never be considered a risk taker but I elevated my head above the parapet and well, I shouldn’t have for want of a more full explanation. The reverberations of this are rough and will take some time to process.

Far as I can tell, there’s no "app" to deal with such turbulence. All I can hope is to emerge from the dank tunnel with the spiritual and domestic wreckage in some perspective at least. Contentment not containment, that kind of outcome.

You might have thought that this had become a repository for reporting RIP notices. I’m still considering posting one for the blog but when all is said and done, it’s time to resume sort of activity. I’m hoping that the disenfranchised feeling can be overcome.

I do appreciate the fact that some of you folks are wondering what the heck is going on? If I told you I’d have to kill me. I’m like Cher, looking for the solution of how to ratchet back time. On the more tangible aspect of these past weeks, the bunker has been spruced up and might even be in a position to resume the R&R B&B within a couple of weeks. Way overdue and even further over-budget, I’m having to face the cold hard facts that there won’t be much in the way of gallivanting anytime soon.

Did you look at this Google “art project” thing? All very clever and setting us up for the times when it will be impossible to leave your own midden heid. But you will be able to flounce “virtually” across the planet. People are having a hard enough time trying to differentiate what’s real and what’s not without all this malarkey. How much real is there actually left out there? Not much as far as I can tell. And then there’s the big news that The White Stripes have split. Something that troubles my parish not one iota other than the fact that such an event is considered news. The pulsebeat of the media machine is as weak as those vital signs of the industry(ies) that it purports to represent.

I do tend to be in a minority when it comes to an opinion on the work of Jack White. I preferred him when he was in Goober and the Peas. This new Wanda Jackson project is not a patch on “Heart Trouble”. It was a celebration of the fact the lady could still cut it.

Believe me, I know all about where good intentions can lead.