I think pop culture is incorrectly labeled. Instead of pop culture, it should be oops culture. Think about it.
Much of what constitutes that area is nothing more than a calculated accident. Yeah, I said it…it’s an oxymoron that seems to really work when talking about this. The powers that be out there, which really aren’t powers at all… merely those who know which ears are the right ears to talk into. Those of us in the trenches of real reality are of course showered with these notions of the new state of cool. Wait, do people even say cool anymore? I mean, in reference to something other than a refrigerator or the weather.
Would it be so bad to echo around in one of those right ears? The spark would be momentary… oh, but what a moment. I mentioned once how I’d love to be even a cultural footnote of some sort. Whether or not that will ever happen isn’t up to me. I might not even see it.
What if i get it and I don’t want it? Tough walnuts.
I’ve resolved myself to being a lot of things. A squirrel. A pain. A sidekick. Let’s face it, I’m not the typical leading man…cripes, I’m not even a MAN. I will be forever riding on someone’s shoulder. The only thing that will ever ride my shoulder is a pack of fleas and maybe the occasional dandruff flake.
Nope, nope, nope… the truth is the truth. I will never be Captain America… always Bucky. Never Batman… always Robin. Never Abbott… always Costello. I will be the flunkie, the goofball, the comic relief. The bullet catcher, the selfless, loyal friend that gets to hear that big speech… or better yet… MAKE a big energy changing, tide turning, climax of the action that makes the hero hunker down and eliminate all the bad dudes speech. Yes. That is what I have become and what I have to look forward to. Making a speech and not getting to be in the sequel.
I am a sidekick. The strip may be named after me, but make no mistake… I am the sidekick. It’s hard enough to get people to read a strip called BOB THE SQUIRREL… Imagine if it was called FRANK THE PAGE? How far out of the gate do you think that one would get? Knowing Frank’s luck, pretty far… considering it wasn’t the choice he made.
Yeah, maybe you guessed I’m a bit under the weather. Not sick in a physical earth sense… more like I’m past singing the blues and now singing the purples. And the purples aren’t making me feel any better. Singing the blues is eventually supposed to make you feel a bit better. I’m not even a bit. Not even a bit.
Honestly, I know one could never fall off the Earth. Gravity makes you fall. I could move away from the planet… but I would need to generate such a huge amount of energy to maintain that path that it would be easier just to take the hit like a squirrel and deal with whatever came. I don’t think I’d land in the lap either. The day I fall might be the only day that the Earth wanted to feel particularly pretty and decided to wear some funky vinyl/silk pants. Might as well be teflon because I would just slide off into nothingness…Slipping the surly bonds of funky pants to touch the face of nothing. Oh yeah.
I’ve spoken many times about change. Both in life and in nickels, dimes, pennies and quarters. Sometimes, change is good. Especially when you have the exact amount for that candy bar or bag of trail mix. Sometimes, it is necessary… be it a bad situation a good situation that will eventually be bad or plain old boredom. I can dig change… just so long as it doesn’t cut into my action… then I’ll typically have what is commonly referred to as “a beef” or “an issue”.
Ever wonder why it’s called “a beef”? I suppose it’s because if you have “a ham”, “a pork” or “a chicken” the immediacy and roughness is gone. Red meat is immediate. Red meat means change… and change fast.
My life won’t change today…mostly because this transmogrifier takes D batteries and all we have in the house is 9Volts and AA.
Monday is a time of reflection. It can be very difficult… especially if your mirror is dirty or even broken. I never reflected much until I started living with humans. You can’t live with humans and not be sucked into that void. Out in the street, I never reflected… I was too busy trying to survive. Not having to worry about that (as much) anymore, I now reflect. Sometimes, I even dip my tail in glitter for an extra cool effect.
Monday seems to be the day to do this.
Mostly because there’s always some glitter left over from the weekend. I’m not trying to start any kind of new philosophical movement today… I just don’t have enough reflection in me.
I should also mention that, in addition to being Inauguration day and Martin Luther King, Jr. day, it is also NATIONAL SQUIRREL APPRECIATION DAY. So after I celebrate the first two, I’m going to take a moment to appreciate me.
Many a sunday afternoon I have seen Frank frantically running after our jack russell terrier lucy… It gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling… yeah yeah, more so than usual.
Click on the image if you would like this on your wall…
The morning is an empty slate…or to give a more modern creative spin… an empty screen.
Notice how I skipped right over paper and went directly to the screen?
I personally am not that creative. From the “creative types” I’ve listened to and interacted with (yes, other than Frank), not many of them ever refer to themselves as creative. I find that interesting. The people you’d think would do that, really don’t do that. I suppose that if you are that type, you wouldn’t have to broadcast it. Unless of course you were fishing for some extra spotlight or attention from someone else who would unnecessarily want to fawn all over you because you refer to yourself as “creative”. The real ones, that do it because they love the process and the creation never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever say that they are creative. It just is.
The more time and energy you spend telling the world how creative you are, the less time you have to actually prove it. So, for all you “creative” types out there… after you read this, go makes something. Hey, even if it’s burnt toast with moldy jam, at least you’re out there creating. If you burn it really bad, just make up a good story about how it represents society’s fear of strawberry jam and the state of oppressed fruit. You can really spin something like that.
To sell out… on the one hand it’s the dream of all dreams. To sell out means that there is something of value in the midst… value that could be of some use to someone of something else out there so they too could have something of value… and even add onto it.
I honestly don’t know if I have principles. I like to think that I keep a good eye on what’s going on with me here and there.
I don’t know… that’s too far ahead into a future that may never exist.
Push my buttons and see what happens. Normally it doesn’t take much to get me going. Sometimes, all it takes is just the slightest eye twitch and I explode live an over packed roman candle. Wait, do they even make roman candles anymore? They should… I mean, what happens when the lights go out in Rome? Wouldn’t those people use Roman candles to see what was going on? Wouldn’t they?
The feeling of new is great…but it eventually goes away. All things are new at one point… mostly at the beginning. Old things can be new if you’ve never seen them, heard them, felt them or tasted them before. The only thing they have in common is feeling.