Ghost Riding Melancholy To Monument Valley Oblivion

Earlier today I blogged about the book that the Queen of Wink sent me to make me melancholy. Ghost Rider.

I am a non-observant himbo, with himbo being a word that the Queen of Wink is now claiming she did not use to describe me.

So, with me being a non-observant himbo, I had not paid attention to the cover of the Ghost Rider book, til this morning, when my melancholy state, apparently, made me more observant. It appears to be Monument Valley.

When I first saw Monument Valley, on the book's cover, I thought it was the same view I use as the logo on my Roadtripping Blog, that being a picture I took when I stopped driving and got out my Safari Van manual, because I thought the view I was looking at was the same as that on the cover of the manual.

And it was.

Regarding that melancholy thing. It was suggested to me that walking around on the Tandy Hills can cure that condition. And so I did so. And it did. Sort of.

But then I got freshly perplexed by that constantly perplexing Queen of Wink. She sent me a message asking me to apologize to someone named Lou Landry because he'd sent her an email which she had not seen til weeks later.

None of the Queen's message made any sense to me. And me with that newfound insecurity regarding being a himbo, well, it just made me melancholy again. I'd have a whisky filled chocolate, but those are all gone. Maybe an espresso filled chocolate would perk me up.

One of my local crime partners is off on a bit of an adventure today. I'll just say it is political intrigue. No more details than that, lest 1 and 1 get correctly added to make 2. If I've not heard from my local crime partner by 5, I'm supposed to send out some sort of search party to look for her. Starting along the banks of the Trinity River on the north end of downtown Fort Worth. It is about an hour and a half before I head downtown.

Feeling Like Lincoln In Texas

Today I am having a bout of Abraham Lincoln's lifelong problem, as in, woeful, mournful melancholy. I don't know what has brought this bout on, other than the little annoying details of this hell I'm living.

Maybe it's a new book I'm reading that has brought on the woeful, mournful melancholy. The Queen of Wink sent me a book called Ghost Rider: Travels On The Healing Road by Neil Peart.

Neil Peart was the drummer in Canada's most successful rock band. Rush. I'm not sure if I remember Rush or not. Apparently they were quite popular. Recently I found I did not know who Boz Scaggs is. I'm not much of a music aficionado, apparently.

In the course of a year, Neil Peart lost his daughter in a car wreck and his wife to cancer. This had him totally wiped out. After a year, he willed himself to hit the road on his big motorbike. The book is the story of his coming back to life during the course of thousands of miles of motorbiking. So far, I've ridden with him from eastern Canada to Alaska.

I've never ever wanted to ride a motorbike. But, now I'm thinking it seems like something I might like. I am very susceptible to random input altering my pre-conceived notions, apparently.

I was in the pool, again, before the sun lit the place up, this morning. Swimming did nothing to lighten my melancholy mood.

Due to it being almost 11 in the morning, and me not blogging, I've gotten the regular "are you all right" messages. So, I thought I'd blog about how I'm not all right, to let those who are concerned about my "rightness," know that I'm all right.

I love writing convoluted sentences.