(Whining)The State of the Entropy

door kitten

The State of the Entropy


or … the continuing Entropy of the State. And whining about it.


Whining? the usual: i complain, no-one listens, gettin’ more and more tired (whuddelse izz gnu?). In part due to THE HEAT. i don’t know about you, but when the temps hit 80, then 90 (today) i fade. doin’ the yard chores at a pace which varies between a zombie-shuffle to the occasional medium-shuffle.


i’ll spiffify this happy post with CAT PIXURES, and when Betty flew away two daze ago to be GrandMa in Portland, she lamented she might miss her flowers bloomin’. so the cat pixures will be interspersed with flower-pictures.

gate milli

burgundy lilies

and a pict. of a kitten (well, heez a BIG kitten, small kitty now) with harmonicas.

seriously (really!) i had set the two instruments of destruxion out to photograff, and “kitten” decided he’d get in there, and

yeah, i “auditioned” tonite at a club in Fruita (check http://www.cavalcadefruita.com)
with the gist (or izzit speld “jist”?) of my plan of attack being
and they said “you’re on” for the next monthly show.
and that’s not all …
Betty and our “old band” is also playin’ Cavalcade “talent”! and someone wants to re-start up the banned! our ‘musical life’ temporarily looks optimistic. don’t worry, it’ll pass …


the annual José Puede Ver? occurred last weekend, with Friday being one of my worst performances and Satyrday i ratcheted it up and think i performed ‘somewhat above average’. (“José Puede Ver” is what i call my annual playing of the National Anthem with blooz intro and some banter at the W. Colorado H.S. Track (& Field) Championships.)

cat foreground dogs

betty’s complaints, my fault: her flight to Portland was delayed, twice. THAT was, somehow, my fault, for purchasing those particular plane tickets. and when she got there, her cell-phone wouldn’t work. That too, was my fault. ’til her daughter TURNED THE PHONE OFF, and when it turned on, the phone knew where it was and calls have been coming and going.

granma eddie
bein’ granMaw, with grandson, Eddie

Ah, the Whining: sometimes i think i ‘pen’ something which WerdPress might “take notice” of. profile. push to front and center (they call it “Fresh Pressed”). deafeningly not this!, but … i figgerd “tormented souls”?? — my previous post, which was the first serious not-totally-off-the-cuff post inna while. by that i mean i axually THOUGHT about it. edited it intensely. yeah, you probably can’t tell …
and, how about FICTION CATEGORY: they didn’t pick up ERIK/DYLAN snow cave camp? or Cry Kwakiutl? ? or Uggedda Buggetta??? Seminal short stories, people!
and Japhy ryder? — an intradimensional epic!

arch inuk

Perhaps WerdPress ought-a have ANOTHER, ‘renegade’ category, Pressedly-Frest, with the symbol being, oh, a bl(e)ak hole — or some weird outdoor demented rock sculpture, for categories hitherto unthinkable. un-label-able. just plain outside of definition.

arch inuk snow
You know, it somewhat recently SNOWED here, and now we’re in the 90-degree temps …

and T Pynchon (“Against when the sun is out”) (w)rang a chord recently:
Heading once more over the bridge, into the smoky orange sunset, he felt the sadness peculiar to the contemplation of recent time unrecapturable. Anything earlier, childhood, adolescence, they were done with, he could get by without any of that — what he wanted back was last week, the week before.
Hmmm… and i thought that was so significant when i read it a coupla daze back. Oh, well …


B ‘n me are entered into the local (low key?) Triathlon in a few weeks, as a team! She will swim, and i will split personas, one to ride, and (Rosco, i think) will run. The distance is such that i could easily have done the whole thing some 20 years ago. A mere 16-mile ride, followed by 3.5 mile CC. Heck, about 20 years ago i briefly held the (w)record for the local Duathlon (Citizen category), which was smusht the following year by REAL athletes.
The main race had departed, and all whom remained was us citizens. One fellow in particular, swaggeringly clad in lycra (there was a time when THAT was somewhat unusual) came up to me and asked what i’d do the 5k run in (the CIT du was a 5k run, 30k ride).
“Oh, i’ll try for 20-some.” That sounded good to him and he announced he’d hang with me, then take off.

rosco running

I ran the 20-some, finishing in the first 5 or so of our race-within-a-race. Mr. Lycra was maybe a minute back, but overtook me at mile 5 or so during the bike. Seeing his aero helmet, disk wheels, tri-bar, I (mentally) conceded immediately. (I didn’t have those then, nor ever have, since).
Much to my surprise I saw him again at about mile 16. Unbeknownst to me, I also passed the leader in the ‘team’ category. I couldn’t tell as we were moving up through the slowest riders in the “real athlete” category. They’d have to run another 5k, whereas when i finished the ride, i was done. And won.

o r c c
THAT GUY to the right … LOOKS TOUGH? — okay, don’t laugh, too much. Rosco with his son-in-law and grandson in-&-out of law

This year we hope to finish with enough energy to stay alive enough to go to the Cavalcade that night and be rock stars. Wottaday, for old weigh-overTheHill folks, huh?


10 thoughts on “(Whining)The State of the Entropy

  1. I have to agree with old 76anfermo. This was such a lovely post – like reading through a dream! Beautiful photos, adorable kiddies and kitties, funny writing. Can’t wait to hear about you butchering the classics, and the triathlon! You and Betty remind me of Marc and I. :)

    Liked by 1 person

  2. hmmm are you ‘n marc more like us than we are? or are we more like you than you’ll ever be? hmmm… (dreamlike). i thinkkitzz gonna rain ?
    vanessa and rosco: shameless practicioners of frequent cat-photo insertion!


  3. no. I never feel vindictive. I was not given the right to vindicate or punish.

    Like it bc u never been to calyfornaya or bc u have and remember it w fondness?

    the pic of the sunset that is. and btw, howd ya know where that was. don’t see it highlighted in the post. u stawking me? qui es? parlez vous francais? je ne parle pas francais tres bien. il y’a 10 ans con je l’ai etudie (?)

    so you a mano-mano-sphere man now bertunda of Tiburon?


    • vindictiveness? yoove got my posts cornfusulated! (tortured souls touches on the V concept)
      AH BENN TO CALLY a few times and ALWAYS enjoid it.
      sunset? axually, thassa sunwrise (if, from my house, the sun is over “The Mesa” then it’s rizing. i tweaked the foto, a little.
      je nais parle PAS le français.


  4. Well you know about my SAD, so I guess it wouldn’t surprise you that I like the heat. The amateur mystic in me likes to think it has something to do with my being born during the hottest summer on record, but you know.

    That’s awesome about the music gigs and the marathon win too, congrats. You gotta admire anyone with the spine to play for an audience like that. Performing music makes you vulnerable, no way around it. I would lock up worse than the American political system.

    As for being Freshly Pressed, I have to agree. I like your stories because they work both as entertainment and as thematic pieces. So much of the fiction online is extremely, uh…I was going to say masturbatory, but that’s kind of harsh. Overly self-indulgent, I’ll say. Thoughtful > literary onanism.

    And I like that Pynchon quote too. I get that. The man is a genius at capturing subtleties. And I have to agree with everyone else, I like the cat pictures. The “kitten” has that look in his/her eyes like she’s about to fuck some harmonicas UP.

    Wow, this is long. But good luck with the music, really.

    Liked by 1 person

    • keypen mined that “the marathon win” (was a short duathlon) was many, many years ago. and, seriously, at the venues we play muzak at, you don’t need a spine — especially when half the people there are (IMHO (& in OUR H.O.)) not as adept as we. so it’s fun, no need to be nervous. besigheds, a lot of the time other people get up and jump in and play with. so we’re encouraged to do the same.
      am considering lamenting ON YOUR PAGE ’bout sumtang, wood be at the “about” page.


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