Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Floaters- A Stream of Conscious Blog Post

It was the summer of 1979 (and since I was born in the summer of 1980)  I don't what happened in the summer of 1979. Was Reagan running for president then?

I often think about nuclear weapons and how I am lucky I wasn't born during a time of drills and nuclear threat. All that plutonium and uranium somewhere in the earth like it was waiting for us to discover its power.

Why do even need nuclear weapons any how? Are there really aliens and we have to stop them to preserve our way of life? Like pickles and hot peppers.

Does anyone know what a billion dollars look like? Imagine all the good a billion dollars can do. Imagine what 54 billion dollars can do. I read somewhere Bill Gates is on his way to a trillion dollars. I guess one dollar for every star we can see.

Lately, there are floaters in my head. Random phrases and words But when I get to a blank page, they hide under the covers or in the sand with a scallop shell place holder until the tide takes it away. Sometimes, I lie in bed and the floaters come and swirl around like pixies.

Are pixies part of Carl Jung's universal symbol theory? I would have to look into that.  I want to write and work on stories and the blank page stares at me. I know I am missing something but I don't know what.

Everyone talks around me and today I watched Al Roker on TV and he talked with Lisa Kudrow and for some reason she seems just like Phoebe. She sat down at the table, which was just a prop for the segment, buttered her roll and nibbled on it. I wonder what they did with the food.   Jennifer Beals was on there too, and I was thinking about Flashdance. And for once, I could watch TV  without DT . Amazing, and yet I still think about those nukes.

You can buy plutonium containers from Russia. In the story that I am working on or more like staring at the next blank page, I researched nuclear weapons. I learned as long as Buffalo does not have a direct hit, I should be okay. I wonder if Canada would let me in, if bombs started dropping. Then my mind plays those scenes of what I would bring to my flight to Canada.

There was a book called Flight to Canada and I can't remember who wrote it right now. I remember it was strange and trippy and I loved it. I read it an African-American literature class at Penn State. The professor was in the majority, which I thought was odd at the time.

I wonder why it rains diamonds on some other planet and gold found in only certain places, just like coal. I like the trees and the mountains where I live and the creek runs rusty. I guess in another ten years it will go from rust to black. It's a good thing I have dark siding on the house now but we have cream-colored siding in the basement. I keep looking for pressure washers because there is nothing I would rather do then pump funky water to clean cream-colored siding while  looking for the sun.

And maybe everything is in my head. Sometimes, I just see (not like a psychic mind you) something foggy in the future. Something has changed. I know I said that before. The universe has changed. And I like what Tesla says about how we are energy or something like. I know the word frequency was in there in that quote I like.

Since I have no clue on what else to write. I'm just going it end it, sort of abruptly, and with the thought of floaters in plutonium.


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