Mostly confusion.

Something awoke.

It started by binging 11-22-1963 on Hulu. If you haven’t seen it, you should. It’s a Stephen King book made into something else entirely. I won’t tell you much in case you do decide to see it. The title should tell you that the book is about the assassination of JFK. I can also tell you that a guy travels back in time in hopes of stopping it.  Time intervenes in many ways.

That’s it.

Anything else could ruin it for you. Don’t multi-task. Just watch it.

I’ll tell you one more thing. The very end isn’t quite what you think. It was very sad for me. It brought up distant memories of people in my past. Some were lost to events. Some were lost to time and place. Others were just lost.

Do you ever think about what it would be like if you could be with them again? Could you pick up right where you left off? Would it be awkward for you? For both of you? Would you just be reeling in the years?

I don’t know. I didn’t go to my high school reunion. I was injured. It was the start of my back problems.  I also didn’t really feel like it. Our next big one comes up in 2021. I have to think about that. It’s my high school’s 100th anniversary. It should be a big deal. I dislike big deals.

The picture. I stacked and layered four images together. I filtered it. I added stuff. I subtracted stuff. This is the picture that emerged from my experimentation.

I did another experiment. It was prompted by this very bloody weekend in New Orleans. As I write this at about noon on Sunday, 15 people have been shot. Of those, five are dead. I made a picture of a brass band playing during a second line. I layered it with red stuff that looks like blood. It is powerful. I just don’t know if I should publish it here.

To those of you who said that they wanted to see a picture of me in my seersucker suit, you should all know better. Saying “a picture or it didn’t happen” is an Instagram thing. I won’t ever play that game. And, when did I ever publish a picture of myself on Storyteller? It’s not that kind of blog.

Enjoy.


Autobiographical...
Autobiographical…

 ”Twas Halloween and the ghosts were out, And everywhere they’d go, they shout, And though I covered my eyes I knew, They’d go away.

But fear’s the only thing I saw, And three days later ’twas clear to all, That nothing is as scary as election day.

But the day after is darker, And darker and darker it goes, Who knows, maybe the plans will change, Who knows, maybe he’s not deranged.

The news men know what they know, but they, Know even less than what they say, And I don’t know who I can trust, For they come what may.

’cause we believed in our candidate, But even more it’s the one we hate, I needed someone I could shake, On election day.

But the day after is darker, And deeper and deeper we go, Who knows, maybe it’s all a dream, Who knows if I’ll wake up and scream.

I love the things that you’ve given me, I cherish you my dear country, But sometimes I don’t understand, The way we play.

I love the things that you’ve given me, And most of all that I am free, To have a song that I can sing,

On election day.”  — “My Dear Country, ” Norah Jones © 2007