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.

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
ROSCO BUTCHERS THE CLASSICS
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.)

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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?