FUMBLE! well ish, anyway.

Written by on December 2, 2017


This is the second air from the streamcast of Box of Chocolates aired live November 19, 2017. After I paid my respects to Malcolm Young I wanted to attempt at giving at least an hour to my original show idea for this Sunday. Unfortunately I hadn’t prepared for it properly as I had intended. So the show didn’t come off quite as polished as I had envisioned.


The ideas were connections that occurred to me during a reviewing of Field of Dreams. Connections concerning metaphysical realities and some of the true strengths of storytelling.



Yet, I was almost always the voice who lost out in the debate. I always found myself listening to the latest dark pop hit from Quinton-James only at some point they had gotten me so far off the mark of my purpose, that it was no longer a simple suggestion to procrastinate. It wasn’t the lesser evil of persisting in dream instead of reveling in the utter chaotic good excitement of action and manifestation.


They had become quite adept at their roles and I would find myself out at a payphone, two blocks from my house. Making calls in the wee hours of the morning, to a woman whose avocation at the time was what she would call “the ‘ho stroll”, but for me she was simply a delivering supplier, bringing little chunks of white evil right to my door. I didn’t have to risk law enforcement, or getting duped or robbed by less than virtuous street grade pharmaceutical representatives.


However, I feel I am getting WAY ahead of myself. Does that smaller point I was trying to stress make sense for you? I wish you could tell me, that you are out there … reading this, alas, I have no idea if any of this is even getting read. I guess that jury will remain out, maybe one day I will receive some word as to whether these are just notes in bottles lost on an endless sea, never to find a shore, much less a hand to pick the bottle up, pull out the message and read it.


Indeed, there was a day, very long ago. Very, very, long ago. Two generations by some calculations. It was the end of a long stretch of days in which I had never stated any of the mind-numbing poisons; which I have since sampled quite the plethora of.





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