Saturday, April 01, 2006
april fool
The little clock in the corner of the screen says 12:56 am. Yeah. It's April. April? What a weird looking word. It always reminds of a great elementary school joke:
If April showers bring May flowers, what do Mayflowers bring?
Pilgrims.
Hah de har hah.
Well, forgive me for a brief moment if the previous month seemed more than just a tad gloomy. It felt that way for me as well.
And now it's April.
April is the month of my birth. Damn near close to the big 4 - 0, same day as ol' Ulysses. And right now I'm probably just as drunk.
Sitting outside, enjoying the cool night air of a springtime evening along with a couple of cold ones, Wanderlust.
I'm also listening to Meat Loaf.
Yes, that's right. I'll make no apologies, my dear reader. I'm listening to Meat Loaf.
He fucking rocks. . .
. . . in that weird, basic yet blessedly bloated Seventies kinda way. . .
. . . opera in fast 4/4 time.
Say what you will, my dear reader, it's helped to lift the fog.
Like a bat out of hell
I’ll be gone when the morning comes
Ah, sweet April, the nectar from your flowers slowly drips from my lips. . .
Sorry, that must be the Meat Loaf.
(Meat Loaf? Um, excuse me, sir. . . hey, um. . . Meat? . . Mr. Loaf? Can I get an autograph?)
Anyway, the gloom is over, the moment has past.
The Good Doctor Noyz is again ready to make some. . .
. . . I think.
Let me sleep on it
Baby, baby let me sleep on it
Let me sleep on it
And I’ll give you an answer in the morning
|
If April showers bring May flowers, what do Mayflowers bring?
Pilgrims.
Hah de har hah.
Well, forgive me for a brief moment if the previous month seemed more than just a tad gloomy. It felt that way for me as well.
And now it's April.
April is the month of my birth. Damn near close to the big 4 - 0, same day as ol' Ulysses. And right now I'm probably just as drunk.
Sitting outside, enjoying the cool night air of a springtime evening along with a couple of cold ones, Wanderlust.
I'm also listening to Meat Loaf.
Yes, that's right. I'll make no apologies, my dear reader. I'm listening to Meat Loaf.
He fucking rocks. . .
. . . in that weird, basic yet blessedly bloated Seventies kinda way. . .
. . . opera in fast 4/4 time.
Say what you will, my dear reader, it's helped to lift the fog.
Like a bat out of hell
I’ll be gone when the morning comes
Ah, sweet April, the nectar from your flowers slowly drips from my lips. . .
Sorry, that must be the Meat Loaf.
(Meat Loaf? Um, excuse me, sir. . . hey, um. . . Meat? . . Mr. Loaf? Can I get an autograph?)
Anyway, the gloom is over, the moment has past.
The Good Doctor Noyz is again ready to make some. . .
. . . I think.
Let me sleep on it
Baby, baby let me sleep on it
Let me sleep on it
And I’ll give you an answer in the morning
|
Comments:
Post a Comment
