Word Up. . .Ponderings

I was blessed with four hands and four arms, one for taking these fine photographs and three hands for posing. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I know that you believe you understand what you think I said, but I am not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant". ~Anon. "All words are only so many fingers ponting at Niagara Falls. Some may, like the family's pet dog, look at the finger rather than the rushing waters to which it points. Others on a yet more infantile level may, as Alan Watts puts it, "look at the finger pointing the way and then . . .suck it for comfort." ~ Ronald Huntington "He who knows does not speak; He who speaks does not know. " ~ Tao Teh Ching This is the song that I woke up with embedded in my noodle today, such a good song . . .you have to listen to it to appreciate though both are from Ween's Chocolate and Cheese Album. What Deaner Was Talkin' About lyrics by WEEN The wash is out It's hanging up And all I have Is nothing Nothing to do Nothing to say I think I must be dreaming The sun comes up and I'm all washed out Is this what Deaner was talkin' about? I don't think I will ever return, again my friend If I was king I'd wear a ring And never hurt my people I'd stay alert And dress to kill I might even slip you something The sun comes up and I'm all washed out Is this what Deaner was talkin' about? I don't think I will ever return, again my friend The sun comes up and I'm all washed out Is this what Deaner was talkin' about? I don't think I will ever return, again my friend" Okay so when I have that song I immediately start crooning "Buenas tardes amigo" by Ween in my best accent this is a hillarious song: Buenas tardes amigo Hola, my good friend Cinco de mayos on tuesday And I hoped wed see each other again You killed my brother last winter You shot him three times in the back In the night I still hear mama weeping Oh mama, still dresses in black I looked at every fiesta For you I wanted to greet Maybe Id sell you a chicken With poison interlaced with the meat You... you look like my brother Mama loved him the best He was head honcho with the ladies Mama always said he was blessed The village all gathered around him They couldnt believe what they saw I said it was you that had killed him And that Id find you and upstand the law The people of the village believed me Mama... she wanted revenge I told her Id see that she was honored Id find you and put you to death So now... now that Ive found you On this such a joyous day I tell you it was me who killed him But the truth Ill never have to say Buenas tardes amigo Hola, my good friend Cinco de mayos on tuesday And I hoped wed see each other again Yes, I hoped wed see each other again I hoped wed see each other again I have made an oath to myself. I am going to go back and re-read every book that is near and dear to me over the next few months. An hour at least per night, and it has to be non-fiction. Then I am going to post a question of the day, and attempt to answer it. The "morning pages" are not working for me. I honestly feel like my brain has been zapped. It's a surfacing feeling, like treading water, and just doing enough to get by, but not enough to grow. Stagnant, stunted, and just static. My theory is that the environment that you are in influences who you are. You become your environment. It is not only a reflection but a snapshot of your soul.