Okay…Well, my honest muse got a hold on me last night and wouldn’t let go, until I released the previous post. Evidently it scared or spooked you all – you know, the truth and all that. I was going to write a long post apologising for it, but I decided against it. If you can’t handle a little truth every now and again from a guy that is just trying to tell you a story that may educate you in some manner, as I hope to be educated by each of you, then maybe you need to reflect on your own insecurities.

Look, I do get a bit long winded about the truth and perhaps I do write stuff that is a bit sad sometimes. But, that is life, with all of its ups and downs. People are like the seasons, for they are constantly in transformation, like myself.

The bullshitting fictional muse is on call from sun up ’til I get home in the evening. By that time, the grand clown of muse is ready for a nap, so I let the non-fictional/honest muse out. That muse knows all ’bout the heart wrenching feelings portrayed in some of my stories. Occasionally, he’ll add a bit more drama or change a name or place to protect the innocent, but in the end, the stories written on this blog are my own. And, you’ll have to admit that I’m one unique abstract individual. We are all unique in our own ways, and we can each express it in different ways.

At present, my muses voices are reminding me of how I laughed out loud at the guy across from me, because of the lying and scheming advances he was making towards a gorgeous blonde. They are also screaming for me to tell you of how bad I wanted to slap the know-it-all attitude out of the artsy hyper bloke sitting next to me on the bus to the museum. But, most of all, they want me to express how exhilarating it was for me to stand and almost touch art that was over four thousand years old, how captivated I was while standing in front of “The Tiber” and the “Statue of Neshor”, and how I reflected on the clay “The Passion of the God Lilu”.

As much as I love the art work itself, I always find myself thinking about the artist behind it. Who was this person? Did they have a family? Was he or she a hard labourer? What inspired them? Who supported them?

Anyhew, I hope you all have a grand weekend. Wish my sheep counting well. Baahh!