I told the witch doctor I was in love with you. And he said, "Ooh ee ought ought ah, Bing bang quah dah diddle diddle dang dang..." Maybe you have heard the song before. I have got this song in my head. I'll have to Google the lyrics and hear it on YouTube. Today, I talked with two psychiatrists. One must be 77 or more years old, a professor emeritas of Psychiatry and my professor for Psychology of Personality in 1982, Michigan State University. Let's call it a calling in for a final lesson. To ensure that the second one called me, I made sure he knew I had spoken to the first. Overkill, surely. My professor requested a full report, and I can document like a madman. But it was a courtesy call, surely.
Had conversations with every member of my nuclear family and all of the kin, meaning those foolish enough to marry into our gene pool. What is the name of that big meeting of the elders in Afghanistan after the American sweep of that country? It was one of those. Yerga something.
It's time to take a new direction even if it is time to audition for Howard Stern's Whack Pack. I am feeling pretty whacked right now, which will make me whacko if I let it. At least I got another song in my head. I got the rhythm if not the words yet. "Don't push me cause I'm close to the edge. I'm just trying to keep my head. Life is worrying me. It's really quite a wonder how I keep from going under." No, those therapists are not for me ... by the way.
Are you wondering about the picture? I was drinking coffee at the Roadtrip Oasis, a truck stop on I-96 near Perry Michigan. I had just taken a shower in the Spartan Shower room, eight dollars but no soap or shampoo. It's a vastly improved truck stop since last year, when it was the worst nationwide, according to my noting of them on my wanders. The Oasis has a Peace theme, and even the staff wears Tie Dyed shirts. I was having a nice cup of coffee, talking to the waitress. One cuts hair for a living, and she has scissor tattoos on her forearms. She was about to punch out a perm a customer at the customer's home. One was arriving to take her place, and she had hair dyed really red and laughed really, really too easily. But I like how that makes a woman easy to ask out. One was sitting at the counter, folding napkins and visiting, wearing civilian street clothes, just visiting, not required to punch if for Sunday.
Speaking about punching in and punching out, I'be punched this note into my cellphone, sitting in the Meijer's parking lot. Time to punch out, go home filled with happiness.
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