Too much to focus on, but not enough focus

I’ve got to figure out what Ward I now live in and research the aldermen running, because I am going to vote.

Oh dangit, that’s what I feared: the front tire is soft, really soft.

Did you hear that? Must be a race on Race St.

We all have our heads stuck up our arses. It’s our nature. No, it’s because we can’t hear much, see far or feel much. We’re really myopic.

It was really good to see my son. I’m still glowing about that.


Yep, there are just times when the uphill climb gets set on it’s side, waylaid, detoured, and sometimes it’s for so long that climb begins to lose integrity.

Now, who would want to shower inside a crystal clear glass ball? Or sit in a chair with arms that wrap around you? Talk about symbolism!

I bought two sets of new guitar strings, where are they?

There, the dishes are done and put away.

I really should dust. And vacuum. Maybe later.

I have to remember to check that tire. Oh, that’s right; I did.
I should write about how our lives are like cocoons whether we like it or not. It’s half and half: It’s half self-imposed, half biological…

When I sit down to write, that’s how it goes. My mind goes in a million directions, and if it comes back to an idea more than a few times, then I start a hunt for a photo to go with it. That hunt usually hones the idea down more.

I’ll head to Google Images and hope to find a photo or graphic that says what I want to say, to set the feel, to give my brain some boundaries. I’m usually startled, surprised and grossed out, and today was no exception. “Cocoon” led to some interesting visuals, none of which furthered my writing process.

So, with everything going through my mind like a whirlwind, I went through my own photos and found exactly what I was looking for. One way or another, a photo lit on those thoughts that kept popping into my head.
Instead of writing about it, I’ll just let these photos do the talking for me. They make more sense anyway.
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