Retro Music Friday.

I've been trying to read this book for damn near six months. I started to read it in June when I was on a two week hiatus. I got through the first couple of chapters, but then the shit started to get deep. " The Shit " meaning the subject matter of the book. Deep I'm telling you. Like when you look down a well and you're a little unnerved because you're unable to see the bottom, even in broad daylight.

I had to put to book down. Should I have tried to slog through it I risked my poor brain, or what is left of it, putting up a hell of a protest and oozing out of me ears like lumpy, maple spice flavored instant oatmeal.
My brain, had it had the ability to speak to me should I kept on reading, would have been like;

Listen Lady, you know what ? We've got nowhere to put deep, philosophical shit of this magnitude.
Sadly you've filled me up with a laundry list of phone numbers, Tom Petty song lyrics, stupid knock-knock jokes and.....and.....and...OH MY GOD WOMAN ! You really are nuts, you know that ? You wanna read this book and absorb it ? Clean out the closets ! Some of this stuff needs to go. How 'bout the names of your elementary school gym teachers ? Why don't we start there ? You really don't need that bit of information anymore.

So the book has been sitting on the back of my toilet for a while now. I look at it when I'm in the bathroom and feel like a wee bit of a failure that I've started it but have since been unable to finish it.
I often contemplate removing it from the bathroom and putting back on my bookshelf.
But for some reason I am unable to do so.
Maybe doing so would be admitting defeat on my part.

In my defense it is really a difficult read. Not literarically speaking, but as I have said, philosophically speaking.
One really needs to be in the proper frame of mind to read it, it's really not " bathroom reading ", meaning that you really need to pay attention. And paying attention is not one of my stronger points.
So far the only appropriate place to read this book, that I can surmise so far, is in an isolation chamber of total darkness - a spelunking helmet being ones only source of light.

As I am not in possession of either A) an isolation chamber or B) a spelunking helmet, the book continues to sit on the back of my toilet.

If I were to ask myself " What Would Zen Darrell Do ? " he'd probably tell me that " Universally Speaking " I am not ready to absorb the contents of the book and that when " The Student Is Ready The Teacher Will Appear ".

So, " Universally Speaking " the book will reside in my upstairs bath until further notice.

Ok, onto RMF.

I was in New York last weekend visiting my best-est cousin Steph and her super lovely, shall-remain-nameless daughter. We had a wonderful time. New York in the fall is fantastic. I highly recommend it.

As tends to happen with me, as I am the Pied Piper of Crazy, I had not been in the city for more than three hours before some random suit on the street complemented my ass - in not so many words - but I knew what he was getting at.

That was merely the first in a series of odd, sexually harassing incidents.

As my a$$ seems to have a fan club ( you think I'm kidding ?? ), here is Rumpshaker by Wreckx-N-Effect.

1992, I was sixteen and a sophomores in HS.

Have a lovely weekend !

XO

Bunny

P.S. Upon spell checking this post the word " bestest "( used to describe Steph ) came up as a misspelled word. One of the alternative suggestions it gave me was " Bustiest ".