Canine Wisdom

Looks like this blog is getting full. Time to close off. Not sure what to do. Guess I'll have to move into my other blog for Part Two. I don't know. I was just thinking of how much I like dogs (and rhymes). There was some kind of report on animal behaviour that claimed dogs were largely misunderstood by the human population. Possibly the communication barrier. I don't know if a dog is really my friend, or, as this report said, a confidence trickster. I don't care. Whatever the animal's motives, it breathes and moves. It barks and it whimpers. And all it wants most of the time is a little love. And when you give it love, you give yourself love.
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Remembered Forgettables #5: Grounded

It's hard to gain the trust of strangers in a community plagued with serious drug problems. There's a notorious park around here which also serves as a community meeting place during the daytime. Even then you'll often see addicts tweaking and suffering their throes, the most common of which is to search the ground for fallen drugs, desperately and relentlessly. I went there on one occasion to meet a friend of mine and got there early. I noticed a young woman, well dressed, clean face, sitting alone on a bench and was curious enough to approach her. She was new in town. Didn't know anyone yet. And I felt I should inform her of where she was and why the park's patrons appeared so 'down to earth.' She opened up and told me all about herself. She told me about her fine arts degree, her gymnastic prowess, her fascination with model airplanes and nerf balls. And I happily let her keep on talking until my friend arrived. My friend needed a loan so I reached into my pocket for him, but I forgot I had my new glasses in there and they must have slipped out at that moment. Within minutes I was aware of the loss and was down on all fours, raking the lawn with my fingers. When I looked up, I saw that the girl was leaving. When I yelled for her to wait up, she started running. I never found my glasses. They would have fetched at least the price of a rock for someone. As it turned out, it made my eyes better. Somehow my eye's lenses adjusted themselves to compensate. I think they asked for help from my sense of taste. Now, if I want to really enjoy a meal, I have to look at it for a long time before I get started.
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Communication Letdown

I just realized how sad I must look every time I check my e-mail. I'm thinking, 'Oh boy, I wonder if anyone sent me any messages!' And sometimes I'm even rubbing my hands together and grinning, just before I check them. And then I hit the mail button and I watch it come on. And it says, 'Checking for new messages!' And I'm just excited as can be...
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Technical Note

The title of my High School Horizontal Blog has a suspension point at the end I never thought of in the column to the right. That's good because I always thought those punctuation marks were called drunken Polish Irish Communists from Ontario. Now that I'm forced to check, so I can report this anomaly, I know what the proper name for it is.
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Never Heard of Him

Whatever anyone tells you about me, if it's not from someone who knows me well - and few do - please don't believe them unless it's something favourable. If you have a question about me, I guess you can always ask me if you want. That's if it's a civil question. But I only have one friend right now, and even he doesn't answer the phone half the time when I call him. Still, he could answer questions about me. Probably wouldn't want to, though. On second thought, don't ask me. Just ask my friend. Or maybe the corner store staff. People who know me well.
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Remembered Forgettables #4: High School Horizontal

For some reason we taller, slimmer types can't rise too quickly from a sedentary position or the blood will drain from our heads, causing a momentary loss of vision and strength. I've experienced this sensation many times and believe it may simulate the feeling of life's loss. My physician says it's normal. Calls it postural hypertension. One time in High School, I got up from my desk and made off for the hallway too fast and feinted. Most present could probably hear my skull going thump! against the marble. When I came to, I was all right, but there were so many people around me that I was sort of pressured into playing the part of a victim. And I did, in fact, hurt my back a bit when I fell. My skull was unaffected. A month later I was trying to chat up this girl and the first words from her mouth were, 'Aren't you the boy that swallowed his tongue?' She didn't hold it against me, however. (The only other time I ever hit my head that hard was at a wedding party, while attempting to dance like a Cossack. My shoe sole failed to slide along the floor, and I was propelled backwards where my head made side contact with a mirror mounted on marble. The mirror cracked but my skull was unscathed. Fortunately, it was well over seven years ago.)
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Diablogical

Writing dialogues can pass the time in an entertaining way. It can also be a fun way to make your point. I can see why Plato used dialogues. They let the author reinforce his argument by setting up its challengers to fail. Good example right at the beginning of The Republic. That guy (Name escapes me. Thrasychimes?) who thought tyranny was acceptable because it conformed to nature. Boy, did he look stupid afterward. That's not quite what I'm doing in my dialogues. I'm just fucking around, having a laugh by myself. You know. You think of a situation and the kind of characters that fit. Throw in a couple who don't fit. Give them all names. Kind of a power trip by then. I can never resist the urge to mess with them. Dialogues are easy. They practically write themselves. You can almost start from anywhere and a story will emerge from it. Don't worry about character development. The dialogues can take care of that. Why, you're absolutely right. The dialogues can, indeed, take care of that and so much more!
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