Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you.
Forget the dead you’ve left, they will not follow you.
The vagabond who’s rapping at your door
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore.
Strike another match, go start anew
And it’s all over now, Baby Blue.
Bob Dylan said that. I really wish Bob would stop by sometime and I continue to believe that he will.
Stuff I might list at eBay today, if I run Things as seven day auctions, ends too close to Christmas (the 20th) for me to promise to get it there “on time”. People know that.
I could run some short durations and squeeze a few sparks out of the coming week but I don’t think I will. I think I will generally put down my guns now.
2009 was a harsh year, don’t you think? Well, especially if the Post Office gets that two hundred dollar check they owe me into my pocket, it was much kinder to me than it was a lot of people.
I wound up with a couple hundred dollars.
That’s better than 133 US banks so far, and I’m not in court bickering about any of my mergers or acquisitions or whatever.
Two of my closest friends died this year; they were from the same era, and I am now missing the verifying other party in two-thirds of my stories about my “formative years”. In conversations with both of them before they did that, they both mentioned that “the money” doesn’t mean diddily-squat. I am choosing to believe that.
That isn’t to say that we might not play “radio station” a little and churn out a few of our Greatest Hits or something but tonight’s launch will be intentionally “soft”, or throw-away, as we keep the place but don’t crowd too closely up to the holiday.
