Tuesday, September 1, 2015
TALKING TO MYSELF
Had a few beers and I'm in a talkative mood.
Why talk to yourself?
I'm alone here with three cats. I can either talk to them or me. I've chosen me because I'm a better listener.
Are you drunk?
Nope. I very seldom get drunk since I moved to Tennessee. In fact, I hardly ever drink.
That's because you're so content living in the blessed peacefulness of the beautiful mountain wilderness, isn't it?
Naw. It's because these damn Baptists make liquor difficult to get. I only found one store that sells beer. It's in town. And I'm scared shitless to make the 500 mile treacherous mountain drive into civilization.
500 miles? You're exaggerating, right?
Okay. Maybe it's 400.
So, anything new in your mountain existence?
After months of procrastination, I'm still trying to unpack, and still trying to fit a 4000 sq. ft. pile of stuff into a 1200 sq. ft. house.
Not an easy task to maneuver, is it?
Let's put it this way: Alexander the Great had an easier time making maneuvers at the battle of Gaugamela.
Are you happy that summer is nearly over?
I haven't been happy since the mid-1960's, and even then it was only very brief.
How was your first Tennessee summer?
Similar to the plagues of ancient Egypt. I battled gnats & locusts & bees & wasps & fruit flies & spiders & darkness during storms and power outages. Lately I've got frogs. Only thing that hasn't happened yet is water turning to blood, but it will. Give it time.
Did the heat bother you?
It's surprisingly cool here in the wilderness. Only about five really hot days. I don't even need air conditioning. I have three ceiling fans and a small turbo fan. Hardly ever use them.
Different than Texas and California, huh?
California was hot about 10 months a year. Texas was hot about 11. This mild Tennessee summer sent me into realms of pleasant shock that I never knew existed. Summer is very short here. Sneeze a few times and you'll miss it.
Are you looking forward to winter?
About as much as senility and death. Winters last about 10 or 11 months here.
You're exaggerating, right?
Well, maybe 8 or 9 months. I never fully recovered - or thawed out - from last winter. I initially thought Tennessee was a mild, southern-type place. I hadn't expected 60 foot snow drifts, penguins, and ice floes the size of Texas. Global warming, my ass!
It's now called Climate Change.
Thanks for the scientific update. Remember when scientists said the world was flat?
No, Jon. I'm not as old as you.
Ouch. I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Let's change the subject. If we continue discussing scientific fallacies I'll lose my three blog followers.
So, how is the blogging business going, Jon?
Let's put it this way:
If my blog was sinking with the Titanic, my blog would hit the ocean floor first.
That bad, huh?
My "followers" are minimal. My readership is dwindling. I've tried everything possible to maintain interest, short of paying my readers a salary. My once-irresistible charm is rapidly fading. I feel like a paltry imitation of Blanche DuBois.
Perhaps you should lighten up and condense. Incorporate more humor and shorten your posts.
I thought that if I served ten-course meals with my heart on a platter simmering in blood it would generate interest.
Only for vampires.
Any specific suggestions? - - besides laughs and brevity?
Cut the tedious crap about your traumatic childhood and dysfunctional gym coaches. People read blogs for entertainment. Nobody wants to wade through Tolstoy.
I think the real problem is that I'm far too unique and complex for the average person to understand. And probably too cute to tolerate.
You're intolerable, all right, but it isn't because you're cute.
This conversation is starting to get on my nerves. Talking to myself is more exasperating than I initially anticipated.
TWO of you isn't quite as appealing as one might expect, is it?
You're probably right. I sometimes have trouble tolerating one of me.