I’ll be fine with watching this week disappear into the rear view mirror. Honestly I might get pulled over as a human being for having a broken rear view and foggy side views. Not saying I keep eyes front, always at my twelve o clock, just that things in the mirror might be closer than they appear.
I probably joked about being allergic to nouns. I know I did, I’m guessing here was among the places I made that joke. Fifty percent a joke. Not fifty percent funny (it’d be generous to give it thirty five percent) but fifty percent joking. I have a lot of things going on.
One of the many side effects of writing in this things (these things) daily is to develop the habit of writing daily. I fell off. That’s why this gets posted no matter how deep into nowhere it may not go. I have, to my satisfaction, written stories in the air the past few days.
My niece was in town, one of those final days of grandpa things. I’m not going to be the biographer of grief, especially diffused grief, abstract grief or grief for grief’s sake. I suppose I could tell family tales, the sort of thing you get to color any way you want too. I’m not going to do that, not yet.
People is people and folks is folks and the only acceptable answer is Yes they is. I’ve been working on detached, I’ve been successful. If I were further away I’d go in the other direction, but I’m not. If I were trying to wax philosophic here and use a sports analogy, two things I am oft wont to do, I’d make a sweeping statement to the effect --- The crowd does not boo or cheer the umpire until he actually makes the call. The umpire, of course, cannot delay the call, but still brooks no plaint nor atta boy until he does.
Just saying.
I had to make a run into the world yesterday, and today I have serious in the worlding to do, and putting on shoes is a bitch. It’s easier to be cavalier about a few busted toes when you are barefoot and padding around an attic. Covered in canvas and set to the street those little piggy’s squeal.
Among the stress of things weighing on the scales my good cheer used to balance is a thing a cannot talk about, one of those not-very-large things that really are huge. Huh. Yeah, neither going to tease or talk about it, but it is very obviously and objectively a stressor. A breach, if you will, in detachment. The sun is bright in my eastern windows. As bad as this winter was, I prefer the winters here to the summers. I picked the schools I applied to, lo these many moons, based on geography. One of them was in New Mexico, the other in Oregon, neither the best the state had to offer, both in the area I wanted to be. Neither place gets muggy in the summer. This place has solid stale air in the summer.
Again, wait for the umpire to make the call.
Shit, I’m spent.
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