Rocket Man and the search for human truths

Who would think that Elton John could inspire such laughter? Who would think I would ever inspire such...nevermind.

The simple fact is this: I am living in a state of suspended frivolity that will break out of its shell in a matter of 48 hours. It is LEAF time again and "up here, Jerry, I'm already gone."

Today I am surrounded by murder, evil, and various menaces to society. Illness has taken hold on my colleagues and family. Leeches are attacking my dog. My SUV (Emilio!) is almost out of gas. And my mind is somewhere called Black Mountain.

In front of me is 48 hours of live shots, ne'er-do-wells, general grumps, and tedious hours spent in a dimly-lit room watching video of man who looks and sounds strikingly like Elmer Fudd. I have packing, unpacking, and re-packing to do. There is coordination to coordinate. There are egos to stroke. There is rowdiness to stoke. In short, there is much to do and no time to do it.

And even shorter...I don't care.

What could very well be a very horrible day will pass easily. Each phone call forecasting doom and gloom, each evil stare from the non-vacationer, each mumble-grumble from the not-yet-excited will be a mere fading blip on my scope.

Now...I must embark on a day of pain with a head full of novicane.

And if this makes no sense to you...take Thursday through Sunday off, give me a call, and meet me on the Mountain.