The Purging Lutheran and My Sweet Rib have been blessed by The Lord Amighty to have wonderful neighbors. J Cole was one of them. He has since moved homeward to Columbus, Ohio, home of an Ohio state university. The young fella worked as a big machine salesman for New Holland (think anti-John Deere). I found a box of these t-shirts in the basement near the Our Marta pile of goodies. I do not know the story behind them. Perhaps it will come out when My Marta writes her memoirs.
Proverbs 28:19 He who tills his land will have plenty of food, But he who follows empty pursuits will have poverty in plenty.
My Going Away and My Coming Back, A Study in Human Behavior by T P Lutheran
TPL would like to thank Frank for his help for the last two weeks. He worked indelilably to find right and proper past posts to fill in the blanks. Thank, Frank.
My trip to ‘find’ myself went well. I started by thinking I had hitched a ride to St. Loius when I caught on with an 18 wheeler. I took a nap a few hours into my journey but ended up being shoved out of the cab, hatless and penniless, in Hammond, Louisianna. I came to in front of Lemoine’s Academy of Dance. I took this as an omen to get in touch with my ‘Martha Graham’ and learned interpretive dance. In one week I was able to translate my emotions and political fantasies into movement and dramatic expression. I was able to express my distress of the passage of the 17th Amendment (which mandates senators from each state to be elected by popular vote rather than by a state’s legislature) with the glory and grandeur that only my limbs could muster.
With a spandex outfit in hand and a Philip Glass cassette tape in my pocket, I struck out on my one-man tour to educate this country. The tears shed were innumerable.
After one week I declared my act a success, retired from the stage and took a job at Guy’s Quality Foods to live out my days serving the Hungro-American community.
Three nights later I awakened from a dream, a dream which demanded I take flight from Hammond and return home. I naturally assumed ‘to take flight’ meant to become a bird, feathered and proud, pre-chewing food for all the chirplings in Fishers, Indiana. I am that bird. I am Ornithurae.