I came here for some writing inspiration and, as it turns out, I’m now only inspired to write while I’m here.
It’s not that surprising. When I’m not here, I don’t do anything that would inspire.
Sure, I can tell you all about Ancient Aliens. Or my weekly visit to the grocery store. The walks in which my dog and I chase squirrels through the park.
Ok there was this time when we were outsmarted by one and somehow became wrapped around a tree. My dog was choking and I was bleeding. The squirrel was laughing. All the squirrels were laughing.
So my best story from months and months of life is the time I was intellectually bested by an animal that has a 50/50 chance of getting across the street.
I can’t imagine they’re suicidal. Then again, I’ve never seen my friend carried away by a hawk.
Squirrel 1: Where’s Bill?
Squirrel 2: (Lowers and shakes head)
Squirrel 3: Oh man. Roaring beast with wheels?
Squirrel 2: No. Flying claw monster.
Squirrel 1: Poor bastard. What is it with those guys? They are such a-holes.
Squirrel 3: I mean, we’re all just squirrels trying to get a nut, ya know? Sometimes I want to throw myself into a wheel beast stampede.
As you might have guessed, I have an active imagination. It’s like I said when I was 8, “This is the right imagination for me. I think I’ll keep it.”
I would like to take this moment in time to thank God I am not a squirrel and that my chances of being carried away by a bird of prey are strongly in my favor. I’d also like to respectfully request you don’t make birds any larger. Amen.
Oh yes. What I actually sat down to write about.
After a perfect weekend of the perfect amount of social interaction and quiet relaxation, I decided to go get a sandwich. (All of my stories will have a sandwich somewhere.)
As I reached the gate, I was stopped by friends notifying me of the impromptu live jam happening at the pavilion. And of course, I told them I would be there soon.
About 30 minutes later I would pull up to the pavilion in my golf cart and park next to a row of golf carts sitting in front of the stage.
If you’ve never sat in the front row of a live jam session in your golf cart at dusk, that is the spice of life you are missing. Good music, good friends, beautiful weather and all in one of the happiest places on this planet.
I am a lucky, lucky man.
Speaking of good music and friends, the Annual Beach Ball Music Festival is August 8th. If you haven’t made plans for that weekend, don’t, unless you’re coming here. Then it’s fine. Just hurry, though.