PA Curtiss

As the day rings on I notice the black birds in the trees dancing to the swaying of breeze.  The sun sets in the distance as I look out my window.  My wife sit next to me with a calculate in hone and an an erasure in the other.  Scratch that.  I can't see black birds in the trees dancing to the swaying of the breeze for I am sitting in a study room in Black Hawk Hall at Hawkeye community College. All I see is the sanitary waste place knoll, some sapling tops, strips of snow,  cars swishing along the road, power lines, dried winter grass trying to turn green, and the hind edge end of the apartments across the street.  I can't see the setting sun--sorry I lied---for the clouds, grey with and undertone of blue, cover the sky.

So here I sit writing this blog, an experiment for you all to read.  An experiment in words trying to form emotions, sounds an imagery.  I'm giving myself ten more minutes to finish this for I wish it to flow seamlessly. Well, as seamless as can be, seeing I haven't written much lately.  Plus my typing skills suck. My finger stumble across the keys like a forty year old clumsy bloke trying to squirrel jump among swinging trapezes.  Not to mention I gotta pee.

Damn nature calls.  I gotta listen. You understand? Of course you do. So, off my ass I must rise. I'm done for now. Yippeeeee. Harrah. Oh, if i don't get up now the janitor might find him/herself with a nice wet surprise. Bye.