I haven't posted anything on this blog for over a year. I've been busy and not busy. I moved--twice, essentially. I had certain rules of engagement for this blog, a certain code, but now . . . whatever. I'm invoking Missouri Rules, which in essence means all the rules are breakable. Now, the main rule I'm thinking about is that I was slowly making my way through each decade--not in chronological order, mind you, but I tried to concentrate on one decade for nine months while also writing about only the one I had already written about (for nine months). But, no more of that. I'll still try to title posts in time and place, but not try so hard . . . Missouri Rules.
Now, I'm not particularly fond of Missouri, as far as states go. Sure, it's nice enough, has some decent history (Mark Twain, Gateway to The West) and a decent city: St. Louis. I've been in teh state a bit, to the Johnston Shut-Ins and the Lake of the Ozarks as well as Marysville and St. Louis and Kansas City and others, still, I mean, it's Missouri . . . It was Brock and Matt who used the term Missouri Rules--maybe from Brock--and I'm not sure of its origin. I recall it best when I left north Florida in 1987 and drove by myself to Seattle (via Los Angeles) and showed up to stay with them at the apartment on 1st Avenue West in Queen Anne. It turns out they had been having a no-smoking contest going on for months--putting money in a kitty that would normally go to cigarettes, any extra money if they broke down and had one. I think drinking had been kept under wraps as well . . . So, I show up and !!KAPOW!! that's the end of that. Brock invoked Missouri Rules and we went out to the bars and drank and smoked and smoked and drank. So, that's Missouri Rules.
I'm not going to drink and smoke, just write. I don't know how often or about what--other than it will continue to be my memories, boring or self-importnat or what. mainly it's just a chronicle of memories in whatever way I can remember them, or care to remember them. It's just an attempt to put it down in easy, truncated fashion. I may even change the name of this down the road, but for now, Combustible Turnip is revived...
Now, I'm not particularly fond of Missouri, as far as states go. Sure, it's nice enough, has some decent history (Mark Twain, Gateway to The West) and a decent city: St. Louis. I've been in teh state a bit, to the Johnston Shut-Ins and the Lake of the Ozarks as well as Marysville and St. Louis and Kansas City and others, still, I mean, it's Missouri . . . It was Brock and Matt who used the term Missouri Rules--maybe from Brock--and I'm not sure of its origin. I recall it best when I left north Florida in 1987 and drove by myself to Seattle (via Los Angeles) and showed up to stay with them at the apartment on 1st Avenue West in Queen Anne. It turns out they had been having a no-smoking contest going on for months--putting money in a kitty that would normally go to cigarettes, any extra money if they broke down and had one. I think drinking had been kept under wraps as well . . . So, I show up and !!KAPOW!! that's the end of that. Brock invoked Missouri Rules and we went out to the bars and drank and smoked and smoked and drank. So, that's Missouri Rules.
I'm not going to drink and smoke, just write. I don't know how often or about what--other than it will continue to be my memories, boring or self-importnat or what. mainly it's just a chronicle of memories in whatever way I can remember them, or care to remember them. It's just an attempt to put it down in easy, truncated fashion. I may even change the name of this down the road, but for now, Combustible Turnip is revived...
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