Idiot Within
Thursday. The last day of the month, the month, the month. What does it matter? Well, the months go quickly. Yes they do. They went quickly last month, they'll go quickly this month, but what does that mean in any meaningful sense? One day I'll change my ways and slow them down? Can it be done? Everyone notices them whizzing by after about the age of what, twenty-nine? Does it even matter? Why talk about it at all unless you're having trouble firing up your journal and this is what came out?
Up a little later this morning, by the way, a drive over to have breakfast. It's noon now, the sun out, no thought at the moment of taking a nap. Maybe clean up after yesterday's marathon of getting paperwork done and due at various places today, getting my administrative act back on track. Do you spend a lot of time thinking you'd better get your administrative act back on track? Really? Neither do I, thinking about it, anyway, although I seem to write about it here more often than not.
Later. For some reason I put together a page for idiotwithin.com, the “some reason” being I found myself launching Illustrator the other day and creating a head, tweaking it in PhotoShop and then, my goodness, there it was. Why Dylan's lyrics? I have no idea other than I found a site with the lyrics and did a copy - paste. I'm not sure you're allowed to do that. Yes, Idiot Within is a play on Idiot Wind, but there was no intention of it evolving into anything to do with Dylan or the song other than the play on the name had a nice ring to it. And I'll replace them with something else before his publisher finds out.
|
