Patience is entirely codependent on our perception of the importance of the passage of what we commonly refer to as time.

No time, no patience required.

So if you believe time is Krugerrands you might very well have less patience than Kruggerands.

Times up!




Daily NoFi

via Daily Prompt: Carousel

It was then as I wandered in the forest preserves of my youth unassailed by any kind of Fi that my head began to swim in the past. Sure I was no longer in the moment but the reverie carousel of my days sup supped up both hemispheres of my mushy brain. Probably fired all through the lower middle parts as well.

Oh the lovely visions that swirled around. Some with the quietude of days drowning worms for easily gotten but more perilous to release bullhead. Others of Catholic School girl conquests from after school rehearsals for “Carousel” were like a clarion call to long set aside libidinous memory lures of youth. Also afore mentioned biking on mud paths reserved for the young now frequented by colorfully garbed cycling and jogging enthusiasts.

With that I am pleased that such resources are presently utilized for such ecologically economical ergonomic pursuits. A carousel that has brought us to a much better place indeed on this earthy crust.


Over Time

I would no doubt use it as I have used time in the past. Extra time for making a to-do-list of things I want to get done but never seem to do. Stacking things that used to be stacked there and stack them “ober by der” as we say here in Chiraq. Consuming more things than I need to consume. More still now that I have this extra sixty minutes. Maybe watch “60 Minutes”. That hasn’t made it back onto my endless television consumption regatta. Extra time to not eliminating enough of the things I should have been eliminating for years but never did. I did get them off my to-do-list. Speaking of getting off, I would not reproduce anymore. I have reproduced enough, but may fill those sixty minutes doing what we humans do to reproduce with out fear of the base fruit result of my burning lust. All the sixty minutes I have accumulated over my life span has allowed me that benefit of being chronologically adept.

I hope.

But mostly I would spend those sixty minutes being suspicious that there really hasn’t been an additional sixty minutes added to the earths rotation. Just a re-sizing of the unit of measurement. Kind of like the fun size candy bar. So I would spend that interminable perceived added time searching conspiracy sites on the internets to see just how we had been fooled again.

Times up!

But I wasn’t counting.

Or counting on it.


On The Flip Flop

I am already in a time machine. It is this meat popsicle I have been lugging around in the only direction time travels.


Save me the timey whimy wibbly wobbly changy sort of thing, Whovians. I love the show too. But it is a television show brought to you by people who want to sell you something.

I am talking about time as a measurement that all of us meat popsicles have agreed upon.  Isolated tribes yet to be found, if there are any left, probably have their own version of time and are exempt from that vast generalization. Their version of time might be one that satisfies the Whovian in me.

But I am talking to the lot of you that have joined in via these gussied up adding machines we all pound on or speak at to post here in WP-land.

As battered by time as this vessel I have been lugging around on my bones is, I have seen the past. Read about it. Listened to tales from those who lived it. The only difference between the bad things that happen now, and the bad things that happened then, is that many of those bad things were institutionalized officially. Now they are just unofficially sanctioned.

Not to mention if you saw a doctor in the not to distant past he probably did not believe in the existence of germs, thus rarely washed his hands after defecating in a ditch out back. Women and children were chattel, most people could not read or write and spent dark nights huddled and shivering in the short abyss of their lives.

Sure you read about the good old days, but that was mostly told by the select few who could read and write. Life was good and child labor was cheap.

Many things didn’t happen along the way that might have made things different. But they didn’t. I shall refrain from rampant and rueful speculation. That is what the media pukes are for.

Many good things have happened along this perceived timeline that were institutionalized officially and unofficially sanctioned and in aggregate has brought us to now. Be it ever so humble, there is no other place.

The things we humans have stacked on top of other things are marvelous. Science, art, architecture, and yes even the media most of us have access too keeps us well informed of the things we do not have. Many more of us now have the luxury of indoor plumbing and we use it often. Doctors wash their hands now. Most of the time.  We are still sold snake oil for our ills, but it is usually well tested snake oil, and some of it really works.

I for one am grateful for being born when I was born, lived when I have lived, and will end my vacation from being dead when the desk clerk brings me the bill and tosses what I think of as me out of Hotel Pierre. Not a second sooner.

Oh the wonders I have seen.

Oh the wonders you will see my less chronologically gifted time travelers.

Until I catch you all on the flip flop.