Sunday morning at Brueger's Bagels
NeutralSunday morning at Bruger's Bagels.
A breakfast bagel for breakfast.
A thin slice of ham, a rubber egg, a thin slice of nearly flavorless swiss cheese and a "Fresh" bagel that was tough as shoe leather.
In fact the last leather shoe I ate was tenderer.
Forced to use the wifi at various public establishments because I can't hook up where I'm living, or residing. Don't know if I can say that I'm llving there.
More like existing.
Better than nothing though.
A roof over my head, and something relatively comfortable to sleep on.
Still in a state of transition after leaving Arizona. Back to the home state of Wisconsin.
Back to the ever-changing weather and the ever-shifting moods.
The diametrical opposite of the Arizona desert.
I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome that I took some comfort there.
Lye la lye.
I'm laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was home.
And where is that?
I'm always home where ever I am because home is me.
But home is also the place I grew up.
The place I spent my youth.
The place I left off from when I departed on my permanent adult adventure.
The place I can never go back to.
Even if I'm there.
Home is where your parents are, and my parents are in a cemetary.
Home is where your family is and my family is spread out to a radius of 400 miles.
Home is where my memories are: Wisconsin,California
Hawaii, the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean, the Phillipines, Guam, Midway, Vietnam, Hong Kong, Taiwan and other places. Here and there and everywhere my path has taken me.
Strewn like breadcrumbs along the way of my HanselandGretel travels.
Home is where you hang your hat, as long as you don't hang your hat on someone else's hook.
Home is where you're glad to be.
Home is where you want to be, which is often where I'm not.
Home is my car full of all my worldly possessions, on the road traveling back to the place that I began, the place where I grew up, the place I called home.
Home is wherever I am as long as I have my favorite coffee cup with me and a place to sit alone and enjoy the morning as it comes to light and fills some darkened room of shadows and shapes which eventually become the landscape of my daily existence.
La di da and oh do da dey.
It is near time to move on to other things.
Brueger's hasn't quite figured out yet that summer is over and the air conditioner isn't necessary.
It's colder than an eskimoe's scrotum in here.
Anyway, anywhere, anywhat.
Been doing a little art lately.
Not much, but the mood resurfaces once in a while.
I leave evidence of it's visitation on bits and pieces of cardboard and paper.
So on and so forth.
Enough of this and enough of that.
Time for a rich, fattening, sugary donut.
--
many of my images can be purchased through my website [link]
my 2010 calendar can be purchased through red bubble:
[link]
--
“Ordinary riches can be stolen, real riches cannot. In your soul are infinitely precious things that cannot be taken from you.”
not much for the leroy neiman thing myself, although I've enjoyed many of his works over the years.
his has his own style and it's interesting to say the least, but not much into sports so not much into what he depicts.
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If you didn't have holes in your underwear you wouldn't be able to get them on.
Alfredo Fettucini
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“Ordinary riches can be stolen, real riches cannot. In your soul are infinitely precious things that cannot be taken from you.”
I'll give him that.
In fact I'll go so far as to say his paintings are more interesting than most sports.
At least to me.
--
If you didn't have holes in your underwear you wouldn't be able to get them on.
Alfredo Fettucini
--
many of my images can be purchased through my website [link]
my 2010 calendar can be purchased through red bubble:
[link]
--
many of my images can be purchased through my website [link]
my 2010 calendar can be purchased through red bubble:
[link]
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