Any blogger who hasn’t signed up for stumbleupon.com might consider doing it.
Well, Jack would know the feeling. What happens when there’s nothing to write about? It was his greatest fear—what if everybody woke up normal one morning, and nobody was busy building a teepee in their backyard or searching for hidden treasure on an island in the Mississippi River? What would he write—“Mary Smith punched in at 8AM and left for lunch at 11?”
Used to worry about it on the green sofa, those mornings after breakfast when he closed his eyes and his breathing got suspiciously deep….
Well, well—there are days when the muse is off somewhere else, sitting on someone else’s shoulder. Actually, there are days when the muse comes and looks you straight in the eye, shakes her head, sticks out her tongue, and announces “I COULD sing, but I won’t!”
Today’s dilemma is that the muse may or not be singing—it’s impossible to know. I’m in the café, and a guy ten feet away is speaking what I presume is Russian—some sort of Slavic language that makes the speaker sound chronically angry, at any rate.
Right—so it’s a day to borrow someone else’s creativity….
Hey—what about Marc Johns? He’s dripping with the stuff….
Has this
little tendency to make art in public though private spaces…. Here’s more….
Nice sense of whimsy, hunh?
But it’s not just in
bathrooms. His oeuvre (waited half a century to use that word!) can be
found online and purchased. Who wouldn’t want to have this on the wall?
How about…
OK—last one….
I’m outta here!
