Sitting on hard floors sucks! My flat feet don't like it. I had once toughened the outside of my feet enough that I could rise in cross-legged position. That is no longer the case. Wanting to recover that pain tolerance, I sat on the floor. It hurt my tender footsies! So, I stretched my legs wide to recover from that torture, but it's so humid right now that I had to get up to avoid becoming a dripping mess. It's hard to work with the laptop while sweating profusely. I suppose I could try squatting in front of my piano bench and try to work. Such will last all of five minutes and I will be headed to lay on the bed with my belly and my head craned back to see the screen, like I am right now. There just doesn't seem to be any good position for laptop work. Why are we so hell-bent on letting computers dominate our workspaces? Too much work requires contraindicated numbers of hours sitting at desks and staring at screens to see what we're doing while hunched over keyboards. You know, I'm having great fun playing around with various punctuation and conjunctive rhythms. Shout out to my bruddah from anuddah muddah, Micha'el, for providing some feedback about syntax and style.
The floor is a terrific diagnostic device. If you are not comfortable on the floor, then something needs attention. Probably, many things. Unless one is at that age -- a matter which is more dependent on worldview than genetics -- one should be friendly with the floor and the ground. Then, once you have befriended them, you should become physically aggressive towards them. How else are you going to challenge each other?
Audience? Hmm... as the great Eddie Vedder once screamed, "This is not for you!" However, if you enjoy my stream of consciousness, and are even inspired to transmit yours into the ether, then I will be glad (even if you don't want to give up your favorite chair ;)
The Pixies... I'm finding them infectious. They communicate a verve I had missed in my youth, even though I was listening to many bands inspired by them. I'm still listening to those same bands. I simply did not know. That hindsight didn't come for many years until Kurt Cobain admitted he ripped off their structure and atmosphere. Not in a bad way, but in the flattering manner of great artists running around and raiding others' toolboxes. Have you ever wondered where that screwdriver went? Well...
There has been a number of times in my life when I suspected I had been pondering something that turned out to be someone else's breakthrough, book, arrival, etc. I couldn't delist them if you put a gun to my head, but the feeling of loss, cowardice, and wasted years persists. Am I alone in this? Is it just my imagined victimized, elitist self bitching and moaning about my self-imposed plight? Most likely. Perhaps they are just delusions of stolen grandeur. They are certainly the laments of time wasted hiding one's lamp under a bushel; or is it light? Wouldn't that have started a fire in biblical times? Anyway, I'm probably misquoting The Bible, but that's not the point and I don't care. Hell seems far more interesting a place to be than Heaven. JHC! The POINT is: throw it out there! If it comes back to you, then someone threw it back at you. If it doesn't, then it wasn't yours in the first place? Or some artist stole it? Something like that.