How to with Imagination

Imagination and creativity are powerful. Without either one, 

there would be no wheel or car a radio. Although, I suspect the 

first person who decided to slice bread was considered a heretic.

 

I use Neptunian logic, which is somewhat like Plutonian logic and 

proportionally equal to circular adverbs, to conduct creative 

semantics. In other words, I use my imagination to create 

pages of words I hope someone will be kind enough to read.

 

I stepped in some matter.

Does it really matter if we have matter?

 

Never mind . . . moving on.

 

There are thousands of ‘how to’ books and if everyone did exactly

what the ‘how to’ books says, the world would be a perfect place;

correct? Of course that’s correct. The people who wrote the ‘how

to’ books are now rich and all rich people are smart; correct? Of

course not.

 

But is a ‘how to’ book on imagination even possible?

Yes! It would be full of blank pages - room for plenty of 

imagination.

 

I think ‘how to’ books destroy creativity. Following a 

‘how to’ book makes us all the same. I prefer creative people 

who are always thinking outside the box. 

 

Yes, I know ‘how to’ books are supposed to help us not make

the same mistakes over and over again, but humanity keeps 

making the same mistakes despite the ‘how to’ books.

 

So, either most of us are idiots, . . . or a large portion of people

prefer to go their own way and don’t care if they make mistakes.

 

And furthermore, Blah, Blah, Blah, and Yadda, Yadda, Yadda.

 

I write blog posts because I need to dump excess information

and also because, I stare at a monitor and 4 walls for six days a 

week, doing nothing but thinking about stuff to add into a novel. 

On the seventh day, the guard turns on the computer and allows 

me to type my thoughts.

 

I am currently reading a ‘how to’ book about how to accept

people for who they are, because quite frankly, expecting people

to change is pointless, and I find it easier to simply tolerate their

lack of desire to improve themselves.

 

I have no desire to improve myself, and I hope everyone

is kind enough to tolerate my stupidity.

"I forgive you," Mr. Kafka

"What for, jimmy?"

"For being stupid, Mr. Kafka."

"What did I do that was stupid?"

"Mr. Kafka, a bread toaster cannot boil water!"

"How do you know until you try it?"

"UGH! You need professional help, Mr. Kafka."

"I know, jimmy, that's why I reading 'How to be an electrician'."

"We're going to need more candles, Mr. Kafka."

"Nah, just throw some wood on the stove and light the burners."

 Have a great imaginative day!

-jk-

 

 

Cleaning the Garage

Finally, a good day for Cleaning the Garage!

It’s that time of the year again, and one we all truly hate, . . . 

sorting through all the priceless junk in the garage.

I hope I have the courage to trash some of it. Hey, it’s hard

throwing away stuff that reminds me of the person I used to be,

but unfortunately, I need the space for the really awesome new

junk I just bought.

It’s a necessary evil that must be done.

Be brave. You can do this!

Wearing old clothes is trendy!

I opened the door and peered into the abyss, ‘the garage

from hell’ and fearlessly stared at the graveyard of ‘I can’t throw

that away’, and the boxes of good intentions and ridiculous

projects that I promised I would do, eventually. 

But the garage is a mess and the car barely squeezes in.

Cobwebs, stacks of boxes, piles of bags, and a workbench

covered with objects that shout, “What in the world possessed

you to save that.”

Despite my desire to be somewhere else, I reluctantly entered. I

quietly walked toward the wall of boxes on the left. Fearing I

might wake the demons that are sleeping inside, I gently grabbed

the smallest box on top, opened it, and timidly peered inside.

“Ahhh! I remember this stuff!”

It was filled old love letters from my High School girlfriends. Do not start reading them! Trash before the wife finds them!

I grabbed the next box. It was labeled, ‘Magazines with Great Garden Ideas’. I ain’t gonna open that because what’s inside is pure evil. The next box was marked, ‘Good Times’. This box I’ll open. Hmm, empty bottles of rum. If they could talk, the stories would be worthy of a future memoir to be written. Nah, no one would read it – trash.

Time to tackle the box filled with all my trophies and great accomplishments. I’ll just remark this box as: ‘Things to go into my mausoleum’, along with the box of my old military uniforms.

Golf Clubs! Um, I might play again someday.

Yikes, a box labeled: Captured monsters who hid under my bed. DO NOT OPEN! 

On to the pile of bags!

Hmm, T-shirts I just had to have. Save; I’ll use them as rags. A small bag of pennies. Give to the Grandkids. A bag of old newspapers. Trash. A bag of miscellaneous Christmas light bulbs. Trash. A bag of old Christmas cards. Trash. A bag of postcards from all the places I went. Save for mausoleum. A bag of coupons from the eighties. Trash.

Finally, I can see the shelves!

A jar of leftover nuts and bolts. Save. A jar of rubber washers. Save.

My old train set! I wonder if the wife will let me set this up in the spare room. I doubt it. Save for mausoleum. Old cans of paint. Yuk! Trash. Fishing rods and tackle box; I haven’t gone fishing in over ten years. Trash. Commodore-64 computer. Trash. A stack of empty coffee cans – save and use them for the nuts and bolts and rubber washers and the rest will be good for future small stuff.

I then glanced over at the right side of the garage.

Spare tire from my 1979 Chevy. Save. 4 broken BB-guns. Trash. Why do I have 4 ladders, 9 snow shovels, 5 rakes, 17 umbrellas, a stack of brown paper bags, 36 pairs of the wife’s old running shoes, 16 extension cords, 12 coolers, 2 broken chairs, 3 artificial Christmas trees, and 14 different sized pipe wrenches hanging on the wall. UGH!

On to the work bench. Nope, not going to touch anything on it, because I know, scattered somewhere amid the junk, there is a great idea just patiently waiting for me to promise I’ll do it tomorrow.

Whew! Time for a break. Maybe next week, I’ll clean out my

office, . . . doubtful.

“Mr. Kafka.”

“Yes, jimmy?”

“You didn’t trash any of it. You just restacked everything.”

“I just couldn’t do it. The memories. The great ideas.”

“Blah, blah, blah. Mr. Kafka, you’re a coward.”

“Hey, at least now it looks organized.”

“Whatever, I’m exhausted. Time for a nap.”

“Good idea, jimmy. I’ll join you.”

-jk-

If You Don't Know Don't Ask

A funny thing happened when I went to get my free vaccine, well, some people didn't think it was very funny.

Two days ago, I went to get my free vaccine and what happened next was interesting and a little painful. 

"Hello, my name is James Kafka; I'm here to get my free vaccine."

"Great! have a seat and roll up your sleeve, Mr. Kafka."

"Roll up my sleeve? No, no, no. I'm not here to get a shot. I just want a vial of the vaccine."

"Um, a . . . is this a joke? Sir, I just can't give you a vial of the vaccine."

"The sign outside says, 'Free Vaccine'."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean we're handing out vials of the vaccine to the public . . . um, a, why do you want one?"

"I want to see what's in it."

"Are you a scientist, Mr. Kafka, or a doctor?"

"Nope. I'm a retired parental domestic engineer. I bought a microscope, and I thought it might be a good idea to check out the vaccine before you put it into my body."

"Hmm, . . . don't move. I'll be right back, Mr. Kafka."

15 minutes later, four guys in black suits showed up.

They asked me a lot of questions. I attempted to explain myself, but it was obvious that they didn't believe me. Things got ugly very fast. There was a minor scuffle. Two of the men will need extensive dental work. They eventually managed to handcuff me and then tossed me into a black van.

I was taken to an abandoned farm house and questioned for several hours. Apparently, I'm not allowed to know what's in the vaccine.

They said I'll let me go home tomorrow. 

I reckon, what I don't know, I don't need to know. 😎

-jk-