Van Gogh wasn’t talking about fireworks kind of passion. He was talking about paying attention to life. Passion is choosing to be alive to what is right in front of you. Butter on toast with grape jelly on top. Passion is the way the sun comes up when nobody is watching. Passion is the way the sun goes down whether you notice it or not. Passion isn’t volume, it is presence. It is the difference between just breathing and feeling your lungs filled with life.
Boredom isn’t the absence of things to do. It is the refusal to see what’s already there.
What the hell are those words in the grabber section?
Those were my Oldman's terms of endearment. Only my father ever called me those words. Gworp was the topper. If we called each other a Gworp, that was it! Game over.... You are a Gworp and there isn't anything you can do about it.
But watch out if my Oldman called me a Beenzer Potzer, Flibitijib, Gworp all at once.... it would be followed by an I love you Moose.
The last conversation I had with my dad ended with....
"..... oh, you magnificent son of a bitch!"
That was the last thing my Oldman said to me, but in the word's magnificent son of a bitch, I heard "I love you, you Beenzer Potzer, Flibitijib, Gworp!"
It's cold out there. I don't miss Betty the Green Blazer this morning! Chet Lemon has that start feature from the living room deal and heater seats. It might be under zero, but my big ass was toasty on the ride out to DuPage County Board of Trade.
Let astonishment freeze up your nostrils!
