Meanderings of a once nimble mind

Today it is proven, my mind is a meager mass of mush. Meandering from moldy masculine minimal mosh pits to massive meals of metaphorical mish mash. There that's finished and no harm was done. Memory is a terrible thing to lose, I don't mean amnesia, but "what the hell am I doing on the stairs?" Am I on my way up? or going down. Your at the supermarket, no list, just winging it, you haven't had lunch yet, so you really should be careful.That isle with the perfect turquoise bay and alabaster white beaches, let us land there! That's the problem. You screw up a word and your on a completely different playing field. Words are such marvelous things, they can do heroic battles, woo innocent maidens. Have you ever bowled a maiden over? That's like pitching a no hitter in the game of cricket. Speaking of which, have you ever played grasshopper? Aha I thought not. Beetle is a game played in the UK with a deck of cards, I think it's called a drive. When you drive cattle, they are on foot. When they are carried by vehicle, they are trucked. Trucking was an innocent dance move in the 40's, and Arti Shaw played "String of Pearls" that was a great tune to dance to. A nice rhythm and a sweet beat. The beat of a drum is most hypnotic, a Chinese drum like Flower drum song, a Japanese drum, I remember an evening in Tsukuba in the hills above Yokohama I heard a distant drumbeat, it was a warm moist evening, and the drums beckoned me. I wandered about a half mile and came upon a large group of slightly drunken Nihonjin beating off! It was magnificent. They seemed to take turns in leading and the sounds were awesome! Awe like the first view of Yosemite or Niagara Falls. Something like taking my son into the lobby / atrium  of a hotel in San Francisco that had some 13 stories all facing the lobby floor. and little glass elevators whisking up and down. and the appropriate word was Wow! A wow like you shout when you first step on the edge of the Grand Canyon. Gee whillikers wouldn't it be wonderful to have that outside your back doorstep, what a trash can! Can you imagine some archaeologist in the far distant future, digging our middens through stakes of plastic covered newspapers that can be just barely be made out. This looks like religious tract, get the book of ancient writings and translate, "special Today canned peaches 39 cents" Hmmm, canned means let go from your work, peaches was an other name for the female of the species, 39 numerical mathematics, no? cents did they mean sense, so as I see it your God will fire you if you fail to pay that lady for her smell!  Odor is  a wonderful thing , it can bring back hidden memories from our childhood, like the white paste used in the 3rd grade, almost edible. Then came the little bottles of amber syrup that was dispensed through a flat rubber nipple that wasn't edible. Have no fear, the world continues to spin, summer comes, followed by fall and winter. The polar icecaps melt and the sea rises. Should we start building our dikes now? The coastal commission forbids breakwaters because it will disturb the people down stream. Don't you just love it. We  are not responsible, we can sit (and perhaps drool a little) and people will speak louder and slower, and cut up our food for us! and remind us when it's time to go to bed!