A Grannies Garden of No Curses

🌸🌷🌹🌻🌺🌼
March 18, 2014
Who was it who first said “You made your bed, now sleep in it”? I wonder if that was supposed to be some sort of curse. Sort of like the yearly St. Patrick Storm that we all put up with here in Eastern Canada, whether we are Irish or not. Come to think of it, do they have St. Patrick Storms in Ireland.

The date today? What is the date? Well my face-pad tells me it is now March 18.
My best buddy is snoring beside me and it is 4:35 am. It’s a good thing I have my best buddy otherwise I might be pretty lonely. I have not been into town since … Since when? When was the last time I actually spoke to another person beside my best buddy? I guess that would be March 9 when I exchanged a few pleasant words with the nice cashier at Chapter’s in Moncton.

And The reason I was in Moncton was because I was returning from the March 8 Music Workshop near Truro, Nova Scotia. While I was there I spoke to other people and made music with them.

Before my day in Brookfield, a week had gone by and the only other face-to-face human conversation I had was on the previous Saturday when I went to the market downtown. I spoke with some of the vendors. That is what vendors do, after all, besides selling their products. They speak with people.

Does texting count as speaking with someone? Does email count? What about Facebook?

I tried Facebook. I tried really hard. Maybe I just tried too hard. I even had 60 friends at one point. I never had that many friends before in my life.

So what happened? How did I get knocked out? Who knows … I Guess it must have been an accident … So now I have a lot more time to practice music.

I’ve been thinking about writing a poem around the expression … Hmmm let’s see if I remember how that expression goes.
If a tree falls in the middle of the forest and nobody hears it, is it really there?
If a tree stands in the middle of the forest and nobody sees it, is it really there?
If a tree grows in the middle of the forest and nobody cares is it really there?

A man once wrote a song about going too far out over the edge and you lose your mind. I always liked that song. Maybe In a few years when I am able to work out the music I could write a song about that tree in the
forest that might or might not exist in relation to some human being hearing it fall or seeing it stand or caring whether it exists or believing that it is even there.

In this Camusesque New World, who can tell?

It is now 5:20 am. I exist in relation to time I guess. Would it be too unoriginal to say something like “I tell time therefore I am”?

It is now 5:26. Who let Camus in anyway? And was he even original?
Or was he just bizarre? And is that why this new world is so full of mid-life teenagers who are still in the Poe-stage of life?

It is now 5:41. Finally, it is time to put on the coffee.

It is now 5:48 and no, I’ve not yet put on the coffee. Procrastinating? No, I am editing so that what I write will make sense when I read it after having that first cup of coffee.

If I were to ask anybody what they know about Poe or Camus, I know they would probably say, “You should google it”. So is it possible to have a conversation nowadays when the only shared experience is a tree that might or might not exist?

6:01 I really need that coffee.

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