He ran away screaming, He thought I was a communist.

Hello there,
It's been difficult keeping up with the things that I fill my life with, as opposed to the things that actually fill my life, and I really haven't had much time for a blog or ending sentence fragments with prepositions. In fact, I haven't had much time for anything, save making that ill-fated Connie Chung song, my humblest apologies Maury, and I suppose my collective fan base has suffered(roses are in the mail). However, I throw myself at the mercy of your court. My musings have not ceased, in fact, they have probably grown in number (why just the other day I made the pithiest remark about Tim Russert's face looking like a Fanny), despite the lack of committing them to keyboard. The witticisms need to be kept for prosperities sake though, and I surely will not keep them from the great and rich life they so surely deserve, after all I am a liberal I let things live.
My boat hasn't been traveling all that far from the shore lately, but I've been tied down (see above) with things that have kept me homebound. Which brings up several questions to me. Chief among them is how I used to be able to get away so easily. I can't help but feel subject to all the inertia that kept the guy in Ground Hog day asking Bill if he needed any insurance. I live in constant fear of becoming that man(am I right, or am I right?). The longer I live though, the more I can't help but reason that living to a higher ideal perhaps is not completely avoiding and shirking the hurdles that are thrown at you by waking up every morning, but perhaps instead the ability to live in and through the means by which you eke out your living. It seems rapidly the case that lives get sucked out of people because something that they wouldn't choose to participate in if they could, steals the time form their day, time they could be spending on the jungle gym. A national tragedy. I'm on a jungle gym right now.
But on the other hand, those could easily be the ramblings of someone who is trying to talk himself into being able to handle a life of complete corporate castration, I don't think anyone out there cares if junior employee B sometimes enjoys reading Sonnets, Lord knows I don't and why should they. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, if no one cares, and your just living for you, then get what you need and find out how you need to get it and then start living. It's a sham otherwise. I mean, did you know Alice from the Brady Bunch spoke fluent Mandarin?
It's late and as always seems to be the case I get stupidly philosophic when I get tired, maybe it's the slow decay of my carbon that's getting to me, it often is and I suspect the doctor is fibbing to me when he says it's not an issue. I suspect one of these days, that decay is going to kill me.