Take Your Wambat to Work Day

Take a little trip. Take a little trip. Take a little trip with me.

Friday brought Sex chapel which was more than less enjoyable and food in crops-the-class-I-am-not-in but it also brought death in the form of a Physics test of Satan. Spent my St. Patty's day night in the back of a police cruiser...It was like COPS Gordon style. And no mom I don't need you to post bail. Didn't get much sleep and turned Saturday into a disaster. Seems I had these alcohol classes to go to in a place that didn't exist or something. Saturday was really just like a bad dream. Periods of nonrememberance that equate with those nondreaming sections of sleep. 'Woke up' at 630pm and started the day over with dinner and writing a draft of a play. Not THE play. Another play. But I think I am too selfish to be a playwright. You have to give your work up into the hands of others who turn it in to real life but it will never be the real life you see in your head. Its a nervous proposition. I am going to start turning it over to others to get opinions and see if I can take criticism. We will see.

Sunday was church, a bit of hunting and gathering, and trying to fix when there is no way to fix. I mean duct tape is pretty spectacular but eventually the patches come off and you have to patch it again or try another way. So we patch and hope it stays together for just a little while more.

And my weekend ended with 106 and a rousing discussion about how the earth is due for any number of cataclysmic events and some bits about vocabulary and the loss of pricision in speach. Tonight the Happy Hippies meet (plus one) for dinner and fellowship and to talk about our summer community (Oh look at me dropping bad christianeese cliches-man I'm good today) And Tuesday I pack myself into the Rectory for a week to watch the pooch. I don't think I will be writing much worth a post. So supplement with some pieces from the masses that are mmm mmm good. . .

Steph! posted stellar pictures of their trip...click her link.

5L is ranting about the talking box in some pretty well composed prose.

"A television in a refrigerator. Next we'll be building them into shower stalls. This way you never have to be separated from noise and moving colors."

You can read more by...clicking her link.

And R'ed is tossing out some good little bits of memory and poetry. I am especially liking Second 19 March, 2006 because it says something that I wanted to say once and never got the words around. Click the link...