The Doodle That I Do

I doodle.

It's always awesome when I find out that others doodlers do the doodling that I do and even more awesome when the doodlers who doodle what I do they have come up with a name for the doodling we do.

Apparently the doodle that I do as well as the doodle that they do is called "tangling".

Next thing you know, there will be rules for "tangling" in order to differentiate the doodle that they do from the doodling that I do.

Master tanglers will emerge to let me know that the doodles I've been doodling for the last thirty years don't qualify as tangle doodles for some arcane reason like lack of cross hatching or violation of color agreement.

This, of course will lead to one of those dangling conversations when someone is trying to teach you what you already know and have rejected. Those irritating moments when it's appropriate to say "I overstand you" but better to just say nothing and wait for the barrage to conclude.

Then I'll depart down the untangled path that I've already spent decades perfecting the imperfections of. Since it's kinda like a tangle, I'll call my work a dangle. Then we can have a pissing contest between the merits of tangle doodling versus dangle doodling until some genius comes up with a synthesis called dingle dangle tangle doodling and makes a lot of money and provokes several suicide attempts by tangle doodlers who are now passe.

All of this amuses the dangle doodlers like myself who knew we were just wasting our time in the first place and were amazed when all of a sudden somebody made a big thing out of what we were doing/doodling when we were trying to think of anything else than what we were thinking of when we started doodling and we let our intuition take over to link whatever is going on in the present to the dream world of disassociation which helps us grasp the situation we are trying so hard to absorb without over reacting to.

The doodle above, for instance, was begun two hours before I headed into the consultation with my surgeon which would describe the aggressiveness of my cancer.

I finished it, while occasionally glancing at the aquarium he had in his waiting room as I dreaded his first dozen words.

After I heard his first dozen words, I held up this doodle...to which he delivered words 13 and 14.

"Modern art".

Naturally, I was very relieved.