And Gutenberg Lived Here: Yo Ho Ho, Philosophers All

What is it about this weird weiry time

between the seasons of universal brotherly love-


maybe we can pay for your mother’s new canary cage

by not eating for a week-


calendarically speaking,

just after the shortest day of the year,

“when the deep purple falls over sleepy garden walls,”

that mystical time

when it is dark dark dark,

and everyone suddenly drinks too much,

or takes too many sun baths,

and reads the weather list each day to see when sunrise and sunset are,

(in the hopes that they are more than three minutes apart)

that makes everyone suddenly waft philosophical-

just what we need.

Or do you think a picture of a small round-headed boy,

and his beagle,

suddenly minus joe cool sunglasses,

but with a myriad of chirping friends

staring at a pitiful



two laughable strands of tinsel

drooping at half mast,

remains of a Christmas tree,

and sighing plaintively,

just before


on the horizon,

a pirate appears,

horned helmet over flaming red hair,

dragon ship in the distance,

grabs the pitiful tree,


throws it out a window,

Viking style,

just before

taking a bow for his theatricality,

then growling frighteningly,

before distributing a double armload of

“Swedish furniture house”


which are promptly leapt upon

by Joe Cool,

who is in the process of refurnishing his pad,

and his chirping friends,

who want a salt-water sauna

where they can eat their hemp and birdseed


personally hand-rolfed

breakfast mixed-grain muesli

(this is California, remember)

before getting on their 144 speed

super-light bike,

for a trip over the golden gate bridge-

in the dark…..




(And wet. This is the wet season in California-

wet meaning,

Noah would be jealous-

buy rubber boots

and three pairs of sneakers-

that should last about one day.

Oh, and if you hear a creaking sound,

your house is probably slowly sliding into the sea-

but, of course,

if you think that this kind of life,

described with meticulous exactness,

and great attention to absolute correctness,

not to mention full Technicolor,

is in any way normal…..



So where were we?

Ah yes….


Love of my life.

And the stupid people who won’t let him get on with the important stuff.

Even if they are ok most of the time.

Especially when they remember the dog food.

Rock on, good buddy.

And his view of the world.

Which is pretty profound, when you think of it.

Work a little, write a little,

observe people,

chat up the birds-


Then a little philosophy,

a few adventures in odd places and with unusual people

you didn’t really plan-

like who plans a French farmhouse in WWI already?

and then back home,

under enemy fire,

and barbed wire,

to a dog house that is obviously larger on the inside than on the outside.

And friends,

and music

and a few candles on,

even if the one I am looking at at the moment


a spastic clear-plastic Christmas tree

lighted from within,

that would probably rock,

and wiggle,

and play Grandma got run over by a reindeer

if I let it.

Which I won’t.

Because then I would have to laugh.

And this entire dramatic moment of dark dreary Hegelian Angst

I have created

would be for nought.

So where was that switch again?

copyright 2016

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