Johnny And June

I just woke up from this dream.  I wanted to tell you before I forgot.  I was hoping to tell you while I was still in that half state.  I had this log - like the ones I was chopping yesterday.  It was yay long.  Doesn't matter.  I'm afraid you're going to wake up or the kids wake up before I can get this out.  Last night when you told me about this contest, first idea I had was that this man was going to prison.  He'd killed a police officer.  He'd pick pocketed a cellphone from a guard.  He was making his last phone call.  He wasn't getting his "only call", he was stealing a call because police officers have special treatment for men who kill their own.  Instead of  his wife, he got the beep.  He had six hundred words to convince his wife he didn't do it.  This was going to be a long shot since he already had a record.  On top of that - she didn't trust him.  Since it was a beep, a recorded message, he knew he could get the message passed on.  He goes on to tell different friends the message to spread the word.

As you know, instead of writing, I felt like chopping more wood and just hanging out with you. I'm tired of this creating stuff for ether.  There's a bazillion people with a bazillion ideas.  Good ideas.  Call me negative, which you never have or will, after the "Johnny Cash marathon"  I figured, well if they wanted to hear something good and creative, why not just listen to the entire album "The Rambler" - not to mention the greats like Shakespeare - talk about soliloquy!

But I'm getting off track and losing that wonderful sensation of juxtaposed-mingling ideas you get after waking from a wonderful sleep.  I do need serotonin, don't I?  Works, right?

So anyhow, listen, I took this log and tried to check it into a library.  Can you believe that?!  It made complete sense to me.  As far as I can tell between surfing down a huge wave, climbing rickety stairs only to find a low rider at the top,  to finding a secret entrance to a crowded pub that sold ice cream, to pulling my hair out over Kaley's messy room - between all that I attempted to donate this log to the library and then check it right back out.

This flipped over and I had this painting I had done.  It was in pieces.  The pieces were still wet and I kept dropping and smudging them - like dream sequences.  Obviously it represented the painting I made for Richard.  Like I said, when I put the pieces of the painting together, it may represent his heart becoming fixed or maybe, at least, that I kept it apart because it was a puzzle I can't solve.  I hope it goes to St. Lukes.

Why would I check a log into a library and then check it out?  Oh yes!  The reason was that the log was going to tell a story.  It made complete sense.  Why did I chop wood all day yesterday alongside a Johnny Cash marathon?

I'm replacing Beer with Big Red!  Dopamine for Serotonin!  This is why I woke up at 9:57 and am having to feverishly tell this to you. And when Johnny Cash sang about the girl he loved, it was you!  And I remembered that no matter how stupid I've ever been, you've always been June Carter.  And all you can say to my stupid ramblings, paintings, writings, posts and logs is the best.  You say gleefully, "That's wonderful.  You oughtta enter that into a contest.  Make a story out of it".

In your mind, you think I can make a log into a book.  Doesn't matter what I do, you love me and that is why I thought I'd write this.  And you know just as well as I do that I wrote this to win, but somehow in the flurry realize what's important.  That's why I'd rather just cut logs and hang out here and not worry so much about creating and expressing because these people are far away.  You are right here.  So this is for you, baby.  I love you.