I May Not Get Out

Home is where the heart is, except when it's a prison.

I was on a tear doing live performances pre-pandemic, co-curating a monologue series, developing another show off-broadway and just feeling it all come together. Then the pandemic hit and people died and everything shut down and we all cried. Then some people wanted to do the monologue show on Zoom. I did one (ONE) and it S-U-C-K-E-D!!

I'm waiting for live theater again and meantime working on my site (no links but feel free to google the screen name). We WILL be LIVE again. We must be LIVE again.

So wait a minute. Back up a bit... You answer your door?

Coolpillows!!! I haven't seen you post in a while. Good to see you. I wasn't aware you're in theatre.

Dear Mister Sunshine,
You make some fine observations, and thought provoking forecasts. Mostly, I identify with the importance of Sunshine. Here on the opposite side of the space ball the sunshine hours are waxing day by day. The pandemic isolation, coupled with a cold and snowy winter followed by forceful spring winds, has altered the brainwaves of the populace, which now resemble the encephalic gyrations of an alien species. (If you do not believe me just listen to any US TV news program.) Most wonder, "Will our planet ever be 'normal' again?"
I take heart - I am witnessing the effects of Sol's rays. It is as if they burn away the detritus and re-syncopate the rhythms of the cortex. Hours after sunset my mind is still advancing.
So, yes - Get some sunlight, install a skylight, buy a Lightbox, or hold on until good old Sol returns down under.
So wait a minute. You are looking forward to traveling by airliner now?
Will

Headline : Maxx Barry saved!

Fans of Mr Barry have rallied to save their favourite author and netball coach from the scourge that is bonoboitis.

In early 2020 the world was brought to it's knees by the terrible covid virus which saw humanity enslaved by their smartphones and forced to retreat into obscurity, that is their home. It was during this time that fans started to notice the lack of online presence and regular witty comments that sustained their meaning for existing. "I almost felt normal!", exclaimed Jon Earthenware whilst adjusting his suspender belt. "It was suri .. sora .. sir-eel? I mean to tell ya it was just plain crazy is what I'm sayin'."

Some suspected it was the work of the notorious Play-Doh Surgeons; a group of early to middle pre-teens rumoured to be behind the disappearance of Harvey Kneeslapper from Sesame Street, but they've not been heard of since the 70s.

When restrictions were finally eased, hoards of fans descended on book stores around the country eager for a copy of Providence. By chance, a blind guide dog attempting to navigate it's way around a pile of Providence books stacked in the middle of an entrance knocked them all over and it was then someone found a note that had fallen out of one. "Potrzebie!!", was all it said. "What's that?", said one, "Is it a golden ticket?", said another. The blind guide dog, frustrated with the humans yet again, tapped it's claw 3 times on the floor in an attempt to communicate it's true meaning. People looked back and forth at each other not knowing what to make of this until a deaf parrot, that no one noticed before, spoke up. "Raaaaq. Barry trapped. Barry trapped." Open mouthed and wide eyed the fans gasped. "Gasp", they all said. "To the roof and light the Barry signal!!"

Authorities considered it a joke but the presence of exclamation marks was, as always, a precursor to some dramatic event about to unfold and needed to be taken seriously. Descending on the Barry household, a mix of 17 slightly confused boy and girl scouts armed with fundraising boxes of salted licorice asked for Mr Barry by name. The publicist that answered the door looked nervous and sensing this, the scouts called out loudly, "Buy 2 and get the rest free." Although muffled by countless rooms filled with shredded paper from numerous attempts at his latest novel, Mr Barry heard just one word - cheeseburger. Always filled with a fascination as to why a cheeseburger has meat in it and not a cheese patty, he made his way to the door hoping that he might finally get an answer to that perplexing mystery. As he came into view the scouts executed a coordinated attack consisting mainly of hugging arms and legs until the publicist went down. Unfazed by this show of teenage dominance and stepping over the scrum at his feet he suspiciously asked a question of those still standing, "You know nothing about cheeseburgers, do you?"

In a scene similar to the end of Close Encounters of the Third Kind, the little people timidly helped Mr Barry from his home in search of an all wise, all knowing entity that could answer the question that burned in his mind so strongly, but more importantly, restoring his vitamin-d levels.

The End.

Oh come on Max, just google "sunshine" and there's tons of pictures.
I bet there's even webcams set up so you can watch a sunrise at a civilized hour of the day. Who ever decided they had to be that early anyway?

Happy Bonobo, you are in control. That means you are now responsible for your own sunshine.

Get as much of it as you decide, of course.

That goes for seeing people in real life, too.

Ah, see, there you're making a mistake. The bonobo wants control, but it does not want responsibility. Or at least doesn't want it foisted on him without a choice. The sunshine should just happen by itself, without needing any effort - unless the bonobo happens to feel like making an effort.

Wait, maybe that sounded a bit too much like a comment about Max specifically. But I meant it as a general comment on human/animal psychology.

@towr It seemed accurate for me! :P

I just looked on his Wikipedia page, someone altered it as an April Fools joke.

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