Insane Earthlings

On a clear day I look at the sky and say it’s blue. When you look at that same sky you will most likely agree. But how do I know that the color you call blue looks like what I call blue? Hold on.   No need to go searching for your bag of weed !   Most of us have pondered this.   And yes, I know this conversation is often THC induced.   But potheads aren’t the only ones curious about perception.   So don’t bogart this subject , my friend.   You are going to have to share these pensive contemplations with scientists. One day my buddy and I were headed out to a show at a local club.   I was driving.   We were on one of the busiest multi-lane streets in the entire southeast.   I was hyper-focused on the cars weaving in and out of lanes, the brake lights flashing, and the tractor-trailer that was one inch from my rear bumper! My friend was riding shotgun.   Out of nowhere he shouts, “Good God!!!” I stomp on the brake,...

My Cellar My cellar is the Amygdala Of my house Primordial dust of ancient warmth Settle and rise Settle and rise Emotional soot lingering Beneath the visible structure A hollowed space in the earth Designed to house the fire Of survival A cave dug in salute To our evolutionary predecessors An Escape from surface life by LeGette

Note:  Anything in the body of post in Red is a link to something that provides insight. By my sophomore year in high school I had learned to downplay my fanaticism about anything Beatles related.   Four years earlier we had moved from our home in a small southern city to a lake in a rural part of the county.   I had been immersed in this culture and had started to assimilate. I still stood out.   I didn’t hunt or fish.   I preferred European sports cars to hot rods. Beep,beep. Beep beep. Yeah!   I started listening to AC/DC, Judas Priest, and Iron Maiden.   I had a group of friends that spanned the spectrum of small towners, farmers, and other lake folk.   There were things I could not share with them.   I was going on about Crosby, Stills, and Nash one time and it followed me for years.   I might has well said I liked Bing Crosby!!   Just Like Dylan’s Mr.Jones So The Beatles had taken a backseat as far as...

This morning my daughter whimpered in the backseat as she absentmindedly fondled my iphone. She was our DJ as usual on the ride to school.   At age eleven, she had learned to rapidly scroll through Youtube, toggle between Spotify, and keep a steady stream of Pop music playing via Bluetooth over the sound system as we made the twenty-minute commute.   The two of us were already exhausted.   The insane, frenzied buildup to End of Grade Testing had taken a toll.   Do we test too much? My youngest daughter is smart, lively, and has a strong spirit. At six months of age in an orphanage in China she was labeled as “Failing to Thrive”. Thus began the long road of labels and near labels; the road of circumstances that try to break her spirit.   She came into our lives a scrawny, one toothed seventeen-month old.   Deep bruises marked her thighs from whatever restraints she had suffered at the hands of institutionalization. But she was a livewire!   Sh...