And by The Old Folkie Days, I am not talking about this:

though I am listening to Neil whilst I am typing this bit of script out.

No, the folkie days I am talking about, or referencing are the ones where I wrote on a daily basis.  And read.  Good Lord above, I read.  You see, when someone says that they want to write they don’t just write.  Yes there are a billion thoughts that are bashing off of the walls of your brain at any given time, but trying to figure out how to get them lined up in an ordered manner is something different.  Sort of like standing in line when you were in elementary school so that you could go do ANYTHING.  Remember that?  Standing in line to go to recess, to lunch, to an assembly.  Everything involved standing in an ordered line.

See what I am talking about when I say that there are a billion things bashing around in my cranium?

Where was I?  Oh yes…reading.  I used to read constantly.  Books, magazines, other peoples blogs just for the ideas of structured thought.  And style.  Great screamin’ jeezus always concerned with style combined with that substance.  Or are those two combined?  And down another rabbit hole we go…..

Today being Sunday got me thinking about reading.  Growing up, my parents and I read up to 3 newspapers on Sunday.  Back to front, front to back, get rid of the advertising and hand me the comics please.  I haven’t read a newspaper in years.  At least one that I can hold in my hand and then bitch about the way the soy ink comes off on my fingers.

That being said, what does Sunday morning mean to you?