Seemingly lost in a pair of khaki shorts I shuffle on forth in Captured thoughts

  • Sept. 3, 2020, 11:07 a.m.
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  • Public

I sit around the Fortress of Chuckles, sipping a beer and listening to Doffen Dave (on Zoom) talk about the business that could have been but was lost mostly due to the fact that no one was very hungry for it last year.
Last year, we were sailing along without a care in the world. Last year, I took off to Kaohsiung and revisited a prior version of myself, prior but updated, updated 30 years, updated from the time when khaki first became a wearable option for non-soldiers.
This year was going to be a re-start year, the do again do over for the first time, like a Vonnegutesque Time Quake sending us back (for all the right reasons, discombobulating be that may). But procrastination meant January and that meant March and March, of course, meant Covid and meant we all had to wait.

I don’t mind waiting. I do it well. It gives me time to work on my Pizzalater idea, my Limited-T-shirt-of-the-day idea and of course insights into essential oils - the nectar of the Gods, the Open Sesame to a cave full of ancient treasures (and some bats).
Wasting time has never been difficult for me.
Au contraire mon ami.

Time just goes poof.

Doffen Dave looks like he put on the Covid 19 - nineteen pounds of whiskey and junk food fat (just around the middle and in the face) and with his obviously unprofessionally done ‘doo, it is hard to take him seriously.
(It is hard to take anything seriously, really. With the world tilting on its axis and going into a speed wabble, wobble, warble.
Hang on.)
But at least he shaved off the bee-hi-dee-ho-ho, sending a message to me and TT - I’m gone but not lost. I’m trying harder than you lot. You look homeless for God sake.

I actually look like a soldier, a homeless one.
I dress like a soldier, (but walk like a sailor, I stagger like the rodeo clown that I once was, bow legged — how-dee-do, ladies). I got my first pair of paint-by-numbers at about the same time that we all stopped putting frames around our photos. I used to think that I was the Khaki King and maybe I was early on, but I’ve since been to Tennessee and by those standards, I am strictly a peasant.
Didn’t know we had a king. I thought we were an autonomous collective.

It’s hard to look back objectively.


Last updated September 03, 2020


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