Perhaps it is because I just finished reading David Crosby’s autobiography Long Time Gone, but yesterday when I was driving home from the store I realized something about myself that is strange: I drive like I’m holding, and when I say holding I mean carrying or otherwise transporting illegal substances. Not that I do that anymore, but I suppose it’s a habit that dies hard. Taking less populated streets, turning off when there are rollers (i.e., police cars) within a mile sight ahead and particularly behind. Being very careful to observe speed limits, stop signs, and so on. Maybe I’m just an old hippie at heart … LOL. But it doesn’t matter what vehicle I’m driving, how far the distance, how well I know the neighborhood, what my frame of mind is … I drive like I’m worried about getting busted. Quite odd, I suppose.
Random Posts
- The Garden Seat: a cyhydedd hirA quiet place to sit, think what I see fit, and watch the birds flit around the yard. Not so much to seek (a crumb, …
- Emergency Petition to Save the CourtsMoveOn.org has got a petition drive going that’s worth looking in to. I did, and here’s the message I sent to my Congresspeople: Checks and …
- The Know of Unclouding: descortWhat if I thought for just a moment of some mitigating circumstance that might prove beyond a shadow of doubt the single truth behind all …
- The Garden Seat: a cyhydedd hir
Most Shared Posts
- What was I doing while others were sleeping? What did I dream while I seemed wide awake? Something o1 Shares
- Last year about this time I dug into nanowrimo and started writing an autobiographical novel. Sadly1 Shares
Recent Comments
- Irene on Some ancient affirmations
- Rekha on No More Sad Weepings of Regret
- Novena on Wake Up: sonetto rispetto
- John on On the Veranda: serenade
