In the last few weeks I have fallen down some stairs, fallen up some stairs and slipped off some stairs. What have I learned from these various experiences? Why, to stay off stairs, silly.
Of course, sometimes a stair is much more than a stair, why it could be concealed as, oh I don't know, a curb or something.
So, part of the joy of pretty much constant confusion is that sometimes in the middle of almost any day, you find yourself standing on a street corner, in a city you kind of know, and you stand there apparently waiting for the light to change, but when the light you are waiting for changes and you just stand there, wondering why you are at the light and why you are waiting for it to change and when it changes the cycle begins again, wondering why you are there and what you might be waiting for, well, you get my drift.
A couple of light changes and I think I convinced myself why I was standing at that particular corner. As I stepped off the curb, something weird happened. I just fell down. As if one leg was on strike, although for the life of me I could not figure out why one leg would strike, as I am fairly equal to my abuse of both legs. Some things are better left unknown.
Some stranger offered to help me up, but I am a proud man, I pretended to tie my shoe.
Kissing asphalt never seemed so forbidden.
Talking Heads?
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