there is a man who lives in the house behind mine.

you would almost say we're neighbors. ok, maybe we are neighbors.

anyhow, this man plays the organ. yes, the big reverberating, tinkly kind. and every night, the evening breeze brings me a wafting jam session, glorious in its extreme, unabashed celebration of all things cornball. i'm not a huge fan of that type of music, perse, but his dedication to the cause of soundtracking each night, literally rocking around the block is somewhat admirable.

he is doing, rather than sitting around and dreaming of doing. he decided one day that damnit, he was going to be an organ loner, and no one could stop him. he said to himself (and perhaps to his family - if they had any say in the matter), "if i want to spend my monday nights doing wailing renditions of "sunglasses at night" by corey hart, well why shouldn't i?"

and truly, why shouldn't he? why shouldn't anyone do the things they want to do? unless, of course, they cause some sort of pain and suffering for others. surely anything as benign as plonking the keys of an awkward, antiquated instrument should be lauded?

i yip and yap on about this because it makes me remember that dreams, small or big are all quite surmountable. and though that is possibly some of the pappiest pap i have written in, well, days, i must hold fast to such sentiment. because i am a big fan of talking talking talking and then not really walking. or rocking. or shocking anyone with my resolve.

and so i must. i must. i must increase my just causes and my clear, determined goals, and my will to be willing.

it's time for a little free fall.