Do you ever think that you think too much?
That at certain times you simply should react? Not think, just go with your feelings and your instincts?
I have been doing that quite a bit in recent weeks. Thinking that I think too much, I mean. It has led me nowhere, because I have a tendency to think, probably to over-think, about most situations in which I become involved.
I guess this is something to think about.
Volcanoes = cigars, after brandy late at night
I spent some time outside last night, between two and three in the morning local time. I worked on a tall drink, brandy and Coca Cola, of course. I looked for stars in the sky, but saw few because of heavy cloud cover. I sat on the porch. I paced on the porch and in the front yard and on the street.
It was chilly, about fifty-three degrees Fahrenheit. Not about. It was that, exactly. I enjoyed it, being there at that moment in time, I mean, but I wished I were somewhere else other than here, here in southern Minnesota. Maybe, in Iceland. It would be fascinating to see a live volcano from the ground. I did see one from the air flying from Poland to America. It reminded me of when I used to smoke cigars.
Love, sex, death -- Bond has arrived
For some unknown reason, a novel I read several years came into my mind while I was outside pacing on the porch. The name of it was, "The Spy Who Loved Me." If you have not heard of it, it was one of the James Bond stories by Ian Fleming.
Unlike other Bond stories (yes, I have read them all), he is not on assignment, but stumbles into a life and death situation due to fate -- his car has a flat tire near a motel. Inside the motel, two Mafia "employees" are about to burn the facility and do away with the young lady managing it so the "outfit" can collect insurance money.
Bond to the rescue. By fate. Through fate. Whatever ....
I think what brought this story to mind was a recent discussion about fate. Whatever the reason, in this particular Bond tale, the young lady's decisions brought her to the motel as its manager. The Mafia men were there due to their choice of "professions." Bond was there because of his decision to rent a car which had a bad tire and to drive it along a particular road.
Fate = life, sex, love, death, money, memory. Life truly is weird, is it not?
Incidentally, the name of the young lady in the story is Vivienne. I never have met a woman named Vivienne. It seems like a weird name (to me), so it fit the story.
Is now the "Corvette moment" ??
I went window shopping today, if it is accurate to call walking around in car lots window shopping. I was looking for/at Chevrolet Corvettes. If you are not familiar with the Corvette, I will only say that, like every American man who has lived in recent years, I have wanted one since I was a teenager. Beyond that, you can do the research yourself.
There were three around town -- I mean relatively close to me. A white one, a black one and a red one. Something to ponder.
Those who have read my posts for a while might recall that when I began my journey upon the sea of blogs, I had a Ford Mustang, a Chevrolet Suburban and an Audi A4. I sold the Mustang, then the Suburban. I went to Poland. I came back, and immediately bought another Suburban. Then, I sold the Audi.
I love the Suburban (well, sort of), but I miss having a "hot/fast" car around. Hence, the Corvette came drifting through my mind -- tires squealing, engine roaring. Is now the time, the "Corvette moment?" Maybe. We shall see.