What?

Often in the world of interpretation, mistakes are made, only to be discovered, and only to cause a myriad of unintended problems. Can we not limit this any more? Why do we pretend to talk about that which we know nothing about? Why am I posting about this? I don't have any idea, I only wanted to type, and this is what my mind produced....that's a joke. Actually, it's not...but it is a potential misinterpretation of how I think and about what I think. This may seem like gibberish - and it is - but I'm actually being serious. What would "cause" me to write about this...about what must I be thinking or have I been thinking recently in order to come upon such a subject. Life is grand and the cost of misinterpretation is many thousands. Let me explain this as lucidly as I can...

*Articulation commencing*

The cool autumn breeze caught the lapel of Ed's jacket and urged it upward toward the under side of his chin. Ed is a ticklish guy, and so the subtle brushing made him flinch his right arm up to slap the itch away. As luck would have it, he forgot that he was carrying a pen knife. As he was walking back from whittling a small redwood branch on the park bench he hadn't capped the blade and then placed it in his hip pocket as usual. As the arm jerked like a lightning bolt with the spear of a knife focused on his throat, a thought flashed through Ed's mind. No way... That was it. The pen smashed into his throat - taking a reflexive gulp - and all the while Ed closed his eyes in dismay...what kind of luck must one have to stab himself in the neck. This is the stuff you don't ever hear about happening, even in books. Perhaps this analysis is a bit unnecessary considering I'm a "dead man," but maybe it's not. Ed didn't die that day...he died the next.

*Finished*

What was that all about?