Creative Endeavors, The Home of BoxcarOkie.com

And a whole lot of pollen too.  I have been sneezing and snorting, to beat the band.  Isn’t Oklahoma grand?  With no moisture in about a thousand years, the ragweed is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

If it wasn’t for love, stirring my inner being and emotions, I don’t know what it is that I would do.  I have acquired a new email lover, he was here before but now, he is even more intense, something in the piece yesterday stirred him and the beast has been awakened.

Five emails before noon yesterday … that has to be a new record … and of course, the old familiar question:  “Doesn’t this guy work somewhere?”

When I was a young man, they would tell me that “love was a warm puppy.” But I always knew better.  Love was watching One Adam 12 re-runs at Kathy Brown’s house, during a power failure, that was what love was about.

Then later on came that hokey movie, where “love meant, you have to say you’re sorry.”  Now days, as I understand it, “love means about 62 different STD’s (sexually transmitted diseases) most of which are sad to say, fatal.

And I would take it one more step and say, “If you catch ‘em you are really going to be sorry.”

I seem to have hit an electronic chord with some people over this ladies underwear thing?  I mean, “jeeze Louise, it has only been one cotton-pickin’ day, and the thing has started to take off.”  I am getting little electronic love notes from around the country from a lot of mysterious strangers who often don’t make a whole lot of sense and cannot spell.

This means after all this time, I still remain extremely and intensely hungry; famished, longing for the slightest morsel from the master’s table concerning the subject of love.  I just want all of them to bring on my Whata-Love-Burger and hold them onions!  I mean it wasn’t like I wrote an entire piece on the History of the G-String or something like that.

Women have sexual thoughts, too.  They have no idea.  It is the difference between shooting a bullet and then throwing one.  If women knew what men were “really thinking” they would be slappin us all the time!  Men play the game … but women … they always seem to know the score.

As with all things, there is a lesson here.

Everybody should develop some kind of deep personal inner relationship with someone on the net.  There isn’t any reason NOT to, unless you are morally against it, or maybe you are the Pope and do not have access (language filters blocking you or maybe one of the Monsignors looking over your shoulder all the time).  Call me romantic if you want, but for me, that answer is the same simple, beautiful idea that has been making relationships work for thousands of years.

Tension.

Me and this puppy that keeps writing me everyday and telling me just how it is the cow ate the cabbage, we have got some real tension, from the very beginning and it is here to stay.  Fortunately, for all of you, you are being spared this dirge, because our “official/unofficial policy” here at Creative Endeavors is to “check the attitude at the door.”

Which this bozo seems oblivious too.

When I open up that old mail box and I see that bold headline and his name, well it just makes me quiver deep inside and just thinking about it, well it makes my knee’s weak.  Almost felt that way last night, when Allan Shore and Denny Crane got married on Boston Legal … Just brought a tear to my eye, y’know.

You see my new net lover who wants to desperately be loved, listened to, be desired, to be respected, to be needed , trusted, and sometimes I am sure, just longs to be held.  Just doesn’t get it.

Personally I don’t need a lot of the above, or a lot of email to keep me happy.  I just want some tickets to the NASCAR race in Fort Worth, Texas this spring.  It doesn’t take a whole lot to turn me on.  One last thing:  “the day after tomorrow is the third day of the rest of your life.”

Remember that.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.  Be cheerful, strive to be happy, the moment is a gift, that is why it is called the present.

This is why it all works.

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