Minds racing, brains washing

Behave the way I normally do and you’ll find it impossible to complete anything but the most menial tasks. Like shucking oysters or selflessly re-sodding that little sliver of dirt between the sidewalk and the street. Something invariably comes up. I live my life as Winston Churchill once said not to. The champagne-clinkin’, wine-drinkin’ bulldog is my anti-role model in all cases except one. His love of baths. Baths, not showers, are unmatched in terms of clean contemplation. But that’s not enough for me, old boy. Not nearly enough. To paraphrase the great man, I throw figurative stones at every figurative dog I literally pass. It’s hardly a recipe for efficiency, but it is one for getting creative content in the proverbial hopper for the higherups to salivate over. 

Canis lupus are not the issue, are they? No, not in the slightest. Whether they drool, bite, bark or lick themselves, what gives me extreme pleasure is tracking down content to capture. Running down alley ways and heavily beaten paths for the best in the business. Jewels in the trash. Gems in the recycling. While capturing content remains a lucrative gig, I am often left wondering with what do with all of it. I don’t have a basement or garage to shackle the content in a temperature-controlled environment, safe until the whims of next season. Trends change, and with those changes, content that was once so, so cool is now cold. Freezing cold. So I release it back into the wild, usually in dumpsters or down sewer drains for the crocs to take a chomp at. 

I’d capture content it if I had to pay for the privilege and if the only audience were the flies on the wall. Like my daddy and granddaddy before me, I capture content – it’s what I do. They toiled over the creeks and cricks itching for the remote possibility that content would show its slimy face. Let’s just say, they taught me well. 

Here’s the rub. Content is filthy and requires immense sanitizing. The world, thanks to people like Walt Disney and too many Ayatollahs to name, has become quite sanitized. But we still have miles to go before purell covers everything mildly creative or interesting. While we can wash our hands (and we will) what’s to be done with our minds? They are too far gone. Every other brain needs a good, long washing. I know mine could use a rinse. Maybe there is a silver lining to all of this, after all.