How about a little Dirty Mac today? Mitch Mitchell, John Lennon, Keith Richards (on bass!) and Eric Clapton, from The Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus, 1968, introduced by a young Mick Jagger. Oh, the hair, the youth, the beat, the playing!
The Way
“Oh, yes,” she said. “I like what you’re doing with your hands. You really know how to use your fingers. That’s it…that’s it. Scratch my ears. Now do my chin. Oh, yes, oh, yes…don’t stop. You really know how to make me purr.”
One Word
Bored
Worried
Restless
Pensive
Irritated
Frustrated
Tired
Weary
Impatient
Befuddled
It’s a smorgasbord of malaise
What word should I serve you?
Impressions
a spattering
a sprinkling
a drizzle
a spit
a smattering
a storm
a torrent
a flood
a dark day
a warm day
a cool day
a breeze
a sniffle
a cough
a blow
a sneeze
A Writing Cat’s Advice
Remember, the chair
is placed for your convenience
and others will move
A Writing Cat’s Advice
Baby talk and stroking are fine
And putting your head by theirs
but let the cat sleep
A Writing Cat’s Advice
Today, tomorrow,
Yesterday or whatever,
Be true to yourself
The Writing Cat’s Advice
You can be sharp-edged
Or relaxed, mellow, and calm
They’ll see who you are
Today’s Theme Music
“You’re flirting with disaster,” people have told me just about all of my life.
To me, they’re saying, “You’re taking a risk.”
You betcha. Take a risk. Tug on Superman’s cape, pee in the wind…no; those are not flirting with disaster.
Flirting with disaster is about assessing a situation’s intangibles and variables and deciding, “I can do this. I can make this happen.” Others’ impressions that you’re flirting with disaster is more about their state of mind than it is about the situation.
Everything I write seems to be flirting with disaster – which, as an assessment, is about my state of mind. But that’s why we have editing and delete buttons.
Here is Molly Hatchet’s ‘Flirtin With Disaster’, from 1979. It’s a good theme song to hum as you walk the day and make decisions.
This Old House
I do not think I like this house
Nor would I like it were I a mouse
I do not think I like its color
I cannot stand to sit in its parlor
I cannot stand the way it’s shaped
To me, its ideas are not fully baked
The rooms are dark, and they are cold
They make me feel so very old
The walls seem like they’re paper thin
And they seem like they’re always closing in
The halls provide so much wasted space
And the kitchen is an inhospitable place
The floorboards creak and the carpets are foul
With tones that might have come from a baby’s bowels
The windows are dirty and the air is full of dust
I think I’ll move, yes, I must!
Michael Seidel, writer 