One More Stain

I liked my buddy CC's comment on yesterday's post quoting Beckett--"One more stain upon the silence."  I guess all human efforts are a kind of blight.  I'll quote Beckett, too.

"I can't go on.  I'll go on."

Warning, though:  I haven't taken a picture since returning from Paris.  Selavy.

I have another warning, too.  Don't get old and retire.  It is far too much work.  All I spend my time doing is trying to sign up for things.  It is crazy.  And when you retire, if you are lucky, they will give you a little money.  Do you know what to do with it?  I sure don't.  I'm a smart guy, I think, so I have been trying to figure it out.  The government, however, has made it as difficult to figure out as they can.  They do it so that we need lawyers and investment specialists.  Nothing is straightforward.  Nothing is simple.

It is better to remain young.

Since I've semi-retired, I have been remembering my dreams.  Vividly.  I won't bore you with them, for as I've said many times (often to no avail around my house), other people's dreams are boring.  By sheer numbers, though, I'm now a dream machine.  You know the song, "Dreams can come true, they can happen to you. . . . "?

I sure hope they don't.

"If you're young at heart."

That's the troubling part.  I have the heart of a nine year old, if they are using the term "heart" metaphorically.

Today is a work day.  It is also a day for beautification.  I will not be home for a long time.  I'll be exhausted and probably will look weird, too.  Ili doesn't want me to get my hair cut today.  She says just about the time it looks good, I go back to the beautician and get it cut.  Hmmm.

What is that awful sound?  Oh, yea.  I remember.  The old factory whistle.

Ask not for whom the whistle blows.  It blows for thee.