I got your letter with the blog comments included. The reader's comments and your e-mail raise a whole slew of emotions that I cannot deal with in the next twenty minutes. Yes, it is now 8:11 PM. I got your letter at the usual time, but felt the need to still do my walking. There is a person that is available on some nights to walk with me, and it makes it a little more pleasant. He is one of the few people I can sort of have an intelligent conversation with. By 6:15 PM I was hungry, sweating and still in a funk that is simply not something I can dump out here.
So here is the plan. As luck would have it, my cellie ended up going to the SHU today, so I have the room to myself tonight. I went to the store today, and while I did not buy any candy for the second week in a row, I do have six 6-packs of Diet Coke. You will eventually be getting a long, handwritten, hopefully legible letter. There is a whole bunch of stuff I will try to write out.
One of the major problems is this time lag thing. I understand it, I know you are trying to keep the blog up without timely feedback from me, but in the process it seems to me that it is like the old spinning ride in some of the better playgrounds when we were kids. You got a bunch of kids to take a hand hold and run like hell and then all jumped on. The part that is more like today is when you would try to jump on an already fast spinning one and end up having to bail out. So the thing is spinning with all you e-connected people on it, and I get a quarter turn or a half turn on, and then I bail out, but it keeps spinning.
Hmm, listening to something about how kids are giving up high school to become pro golfers. This includes the damn corporations that that milk these almost-stars to become spokespersons to increase their marketing.
Just like all the people that took three days to compete for a spot on the next American Idol. You must be one of the .0001% of this country or you are nothing.
They just said that a golf high school in Florida might get one or two of the more than 100 students into the pros! 1%!!! So what are the others doing, dreaming?
Hmm, one father/son team, kid dropped out of high school, dad sold share in business. One year later, son married, travels to golf tourneys in Winnebago, and father and son do not talk, and father calls him a "golf gypsy".
This country is ass backwards to be sure!
I am going to drop this in the mail now, and begin to make a list of the items I want to cover. This may turn into a crap out, with me falling asleep! We will see.
May the force be with you! Or with me I guess.