Saturday, March 3rd. Outside rainy. Grey. Cloudy. Sitting on a cold couch. Indoors. Hoping for melt. Hoping for sun. Hoping for warmth. Hoping. For kindness. For sanity. Hoping for. Renewal. Yes. These are monotonous sentence fragments and I am an English teacher. Off duty. Just trying to. Oh I don't know. Experimenting.  With "bad, choppy prose."  To just sort of. Try to. Keep it short. Keep it. Simple. Keep it real. And by the way. Don't try this. At home. Kids. Birds. Trees. Very small rocks. Driveway. Neighbors. Dogs. Walking. Cheerful. Breathe. Exude. Tenacious. Outside energy. Grasshopper-like. Ambidextrous. Lollipops. Are not! My favorite: dessert. Understand? Me write/type. Fast. One day. You will study. For long hours. At a time. Are you ready? For this prediction. A simple, ill-considered, disorganized, rambling, pointless, discursive, sleepy, soporific, blog post. For meaning, insight. Something. S'gotta be there. For fortune. If at all. Cookie. Oh - my aching back! Wisdom. Yawn. Boredom. Boredom. Today there were: tornadoes throughout the South. Concern for. And Primaries. A Levi-jeans controversy. The return of a re-habbed celebrity. In this essay I shall explore. The theme of: Chance. Apples. Closing doors. Lima bean. Broken gadgets. Have you seen my? Cellphone?  Piano? World War I poems? Guitar? Riff of the. Real. 237. Virtual. 238. Abbreviate. This our common language. Boil it down. To one word, two. 47 at most. As if that were really necessary. As if Americans don't already. Speak. In broken, fragmented English.  Leaving out. Important. Stuff. Sorry. End of lecture. Just. Testing. Only two people. Have even seen this blog. After all. Wow. That's. Kind of. Depressing. Or. Inspiring. Depending on. How. You look. But with all this unlimited space. I shall. Continue typing in the. Nighttime. With purring cat and silent rug. The mellow air humming. My Barking. Yawping. Opining.  To no effect. Without. You all. I will be. Will you? Behold. The shock and awe. Of randomness. That fits. Today's date: "Ineluctable modality of the visible. Thought through my eyes."  - Ulysses, Chapter 3. Epilogue: I need a beach to walk upon.