There are times I like to Prattle. As in “she prattled on and on and never said anything.” You know, like “Now I’d like to prattle and so nothing counts and nothing is for keeps.” [As of right now nothing counts.] See, there are rules for everything, even prattling. You know I never learned what horror would befall us if we broke neighborhood-gaming rules. Because I never broke them. No one did.

This painting below looks like a Basquiat to me but apparently it isn’t. Maybe it just looks like a Basquiat to me as that’s the only one I know who does this.

retroavangarda

On the other hand, I could firmly embrace the truth of the things here and now as they are here and now and maybe that’s how it is. Now. Here.

So I’m going to go and prattle on elsewhere as if I weren’t leaving the prattling behind.