Happy new thing!

The latest edition of The Murfreesboro Pulse will take you from a world of faceless musicians to recent films released in mono to JazzFest to Indian cuisine. Not to mention a journey into 16th Century England, less than a day’s journey from Murfreesboro.

I would love to attend one of the Renaissance Festival’s Pirate Days May 20 – 21, but what to wear? All me plunderin’ clothes have long been tattered and worn and not fittin’ to wear to shore.

It is also nearing time for Bonnaroo, that glorious time of year where music is continuous and everyone is friendly in a land where cellphones do not work.

Ironically, my mother had to cook Mother’s Day dinner this year. But she treated my family, including two grandmothers, to a 5-Pulse meal.

It’s fun using Pulses to describe everything?Tool’s new one has the makings of a 5-Pulser.

I hope writers and photographers will continue to take advantage of the pages of The Pulse. I’m grateful for the opportunity to publish your work and am confident that together we can grow the paper even more into a forum for community expression.

So you want to talk about crazy dreams? Well, I was on a photography assignment (either for National Geographic or The Pulse, I’m not sure) covering King Kong, and I truly had some breathtaking shots, both of the monkey and his natural habitat (much better than my real-life photos). However, on my way back I also captured some shots of some racially-motivated killings.

I was late to meet Sarah, so I thought I would stop in at Baskin Robbins, for us both. Those price-gougers, probably sensing my need for something sweet, raised the price of a banana split to $8.99. That being out of my price range, I had to settle for something else, but after purchasing it, realized it was no good.

Further frustrating me was the lack of half of my car when I went out to the parking lot. A note was placed on the remaining half by a mechanic saying he took the rest out for a spin, claiming he needed to check out some mysterious problem. The delay proved costly, because I was soon apprehended by the police and the pictures of the killings I had from earlier somehow made me look responsible for them. Luckily, I woke up as I was deleting the pictures from my camera.

Somebody explain this one to me.

Somewhere in the web of action and mystery that was my dream, I found myself at a funeral. The dead man rose up and told me I could contact him at 888-8888. After I woke up, I called the number, but only reached a voicemail. Unsure of what to say, I hung up.

I find myself at a lack of what to say on the phone sometimes anyway. Do people not realize that repeating something six times doesn’t make it any more of a conversation than saying it once?

There are few things that upset me more than burning food. It’s a waste, you have to do it over again and deal with the maddening thought that you could have already been eating minutes ago.

You heard it here first folks, burning food is out. 0 Pulses.

Peace

Bracken Mayo,

Editor in Chief