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November 22, 2020
By The Clock

Faint sirens fade from West to East on Mineral Point Road, as squirrels chatter and scramble between four hugely present trees in this back courtyard of the Stone Ridge Apartment Homes property on Island Dr. The courtyard remains vacant almost all year. Few inhabitants of this complex partake of its peacefully quiet space.

It is late morning, and the dishes have been used and washed and used again for breakfast and washed, again. They sit patiently in the dish drain waiting. My right thumb throbbed for several hours from the burn of hot water while cleansing the Nespresso Espresso Inissia machine.

There is currently a debate going on in the hemispheres of my mind concerning the purchase of a new Nespresso Espresso machine. Cleaning this machine this morning became a burned thumb accident and a frustratingly tedious job. I'm now not sure if it will work properly again or not.

Two eggs, over easy, and two slices of turkey ham, on a paper plate in a sturdy plastic holder, were this morning's feast. A large second cup of coffee, too hot to drink, cooled while The AARP magazine opened to the Bruce Springsteen article. I read the article with little interest.

For an unknown reason, though I like some of his music, this particular musician does not ring in my ear as someone I need to listen to. Reading all the lyrics from his latest album "Letter To You" did not register with me.

A few songs piqued interest, but no profound meaning in his words caught my thoughts. There is a disconnect. And I so wanted a link, an association, a bond with his words.

I did not hear him early enough in my life? Other sounders touched me with deeper meaning before I heard his brand? Maybe my mind was looking down different streets in a smaller town and could not make the streets meet at the corner.

Whatever it is, disappointment spread itself across my horizon as I listened to and read the lyrics. I did hear a hint of Bob Dylan in the harmonica, and some words of several songs. But then Dylan has lost favor with me anyway.

The search continues for a different voice hoping for a companion with Jackson Browne, Joni Mitchell, Bonnie Raitt, Dan Fogelberg, Carole King, and Bruce Cockburn. After all, one needs many different sources in order to spin off other prosaic words, phrases, sentences, and paragraphs. Enrichment from widely diverse founts fuels and fires every creative endeavor.

By the clock, morning is closing its window, as afternoon opens its curtains and begins its march through the cloud-shrouded sky. A solitary image was shot early on though it may never find its way to publishing on the website.

The gap between creative images continues to grow wider, like the universe as it pushes everything further away from everything else. From seconds to minutes, to hours, to days, to weeks, to months, to years, to decades, light fades, and images lose their luster.

I am grateful for your visit. Thank you.