When I went to the grocery store this afternoon I made uncomplimentary remarks to a group of people who stood around in the middle of an aisle without thinking about other people (me), and I deliberately spoke loud when I asked them to please allow me to pass. Some shuffled out of the way indifferently. Some barely complied but with a sullen attitude, and others were embarrassed to think they had been impolite and slipped away.

As I passed through them this young black dude made some remark I didn't know how to take, and I whirled back on him and belligerently asked for clarification. He said he had told me that I didn't have to be so grumpy. How would he know? I thought I must have needed to be grumpy or I wouldn't have.

It was a stupid thing for me to do. Nothing was stopping me from turning down one of the aisles to either side and avoiding the entire situation. I could have gotten my block knocked off for being a blowhard. I probably wouldn't have thought much about it if that guy hadn't have said something. I probably was grumpy. I've been that way for several days.

It's silly I know, but sometimes I think I have to get grumpy to balance out when I'm really having fun. I'm not just having fun. Sometime I literally experience ecstasy when I reach a certain understanding about how the piano keyboard works. It sort of shocks me to realize it was actually designed to accommodate the hands of a human being. I don't know the history of how it got to be the way it is today, but my hat is off to whoever contributed.

I kind of bragged a little a couple of days ago that I had been able to play a couple of the key scales with both hands at the same time. I admit to being pleased about that. It's getting to the point now, however, that when I approach to practice playing the scale of a specific key it's a pretty sure thing that I will play it with both hands before I move on to the next key.

That's what excites me now. Today before lunch I started to play the scale of the key of E Major, and I didn't even get all the way through it before I threw caution to the wind and started playing it with both hands. Then, I immediately went to the key of A major and played it with both hands from the gitgo. That's heady stuff for me.

Now I know why I wouldn't learn this stuff as a kid. Nobody would have been able to live with me. I would have been so filled with hubris and pomposity I might have gotten shot with shit and killed for stinking. As just another old man I get grumpy instead, and yell at people at the grocery store in order to get brought down to Earth by a stranger.

There are times when I realize that it's not so much other people who take advantage of me being so gullible. It's me. I can be a rabble rouser to myself. I can pump myself up into a multiplicity of states of being from which I can act out my foibles without fooling anybody but myself. Nobody knows. How could they possibly? How can I know?

I can know because what i realize as my possibles are self-created possibles I conjured up to make my dreams come true. Nobody can know what those possibles are even if I describe them most eloquently. My audience of listeners would only hear what each of them interpret me to be saying. If I was out in public and could be seen and heard, then my audience would only see what they thought they would look like if they we me saying the same thing, and they would only hear what they would mean if they spoke the exact same words I did.

It might seem that even if nobody else knew what I was saying because they have to project their own idea on to what they might think they said and did, that i would know what my actual possibles were, but that's not true. I'm projecting my truth on what my audience actualizes for themselves through projection, but I'm perfectly aware I made it up just to have something to say.

I create my own abstract world to dwell in as I will. That doesn't mean some ignored physical object is not upsurging as a possibility for me and I don't get it. It probably is. I'm always the last to know. The abstract strategies I constantly devise to provide myself with trendy pacifiers is just something to say to divert my attention from my actual helplessness before the forces of nature.

It's those very pretenses that might eventually be the death of me. As slack as I can get sometime, it's very likely that I would be listening to that voice I'm feign to entertain myself with instead of running for the high ground just previous to a tsunami. If I had been in one of those islands where the tsunami reeked devastation in the fairly recent past, I would have been one of the victims. A false blip on the radar screen of life.

Not learning how to play the major and minor scales using the Circle of Fifths on the keyboard when I was a kid might have prevented me from getting murdered for being an arrogant snot, but it would not save me from the terrible wrath of a tsunami.

My animal instincts appeared just as far away from me as anyone else's until I received my remembering vision. It made me realize it doesn't matter what I think one way or the other. Ideation is just the latest fad or phase life provides itself with as a passerby. It's like sticking a feather in yo' hat and calling it macaroni.