Not Insane or Funny Friendships
It was the first Christmas without the beloved Waddell, our deaf cattle dog with the huge heart. The guy was seventeen years old when he went, in the Fall. You could have laughed, you could have cried. You might as well take your pick because my considered opinion is that you might as well take your pick. Itâ€™s been one of those half-years, in other words. A fifty-fifty kind of a half-year. Here’s a thought – and it’s not much of a thought : Iâ€™ve spent so much of my life in a world that most people never experience and that experience is of being – in whatever small degree – famous-because-of-your-job. I make records. Most people donâ€™t. I think Iâ€™ve been living in a world of Protective Insanity, a Protective Insanity Program, long past the point that anyoneâ€™s looking for me, trying to get me, so that I donâ€™t actually have any reason left to hide in an innocuous ranch bungalow in, say, Ajo, Arizona under a false name with some goofy fake credit cards, pretending to be insane and hiding from enemies who are all dead and gone. Years ago, I coined the phrase â€œNot Insaneâ€ and most people donâ€™t know that the original speaker of those words, a description of himself, was a babbling crazy person I was improvising on a radio show. Itâ€™s been one of those years, now I think about it, an insane sort of time.
Thanks Merlyn for making sure we found Phil Austin’s Blog!
Keep up the great work Phil!