Life Is Good
Monday. So, last night around eight I'd watched all the TV I wanted to watch, surfed the web one more time than necessary, finished the movie Masked And Anonymous with Mr. Dylan and an ensemble of well known actors playing bit and secondary parts, picked up and put down three different books I've been pecking at, thought of going out except there was no place I wanted to go and so I thought without any originality whatsoever: well, the time has definitely come for a change. Or is this just one of those antsy Sunday evenings best survived with a bottle of sake to keep the demons at bay rather than anything pertaining to retirement?
I think it's a hormonal thing, the chemistry goes fizzle and you notice, if you turn your head just right out of the corner of your eye, the four horsemen silhouetted in the distance riding toward a sunset on a purple plain.
Well, maybe five, we're not being biblical here, but the plain is flat and purple and pale lines run parallel to and beyond a sun lit horizon. There's a certain “whoa” step back quality to it, of course, but they're riding into the distance and, although you know it's real enough, a transmission from a side of things you rarely see, you realize you've gotten a glimpse of something that doesn't have you in its immediate sights, just, you know, some riders on a purple subconscious plain.
And what? Hormones, synapses grown tired, self absorbed navel gazing, what else can I say? We (self, we're in this together, want it or not) are evidently at a point where we must shift our gears: start a new life, find a new wife, finally build those model trains, plant radishes, become a knitting machine. The solutions, from what I've seen, are many and varied and part of the process evidently includes the occasional glimpse of spectral horsemen. I'd have liked to have seen a couple of signs, personal instructions for the coming week if not the coming life, but solutions are evidently something for which you have to wait, allow them to tap you on the shoulder in their own time and at their own pace.
You talk, talk, talk when you need to walk, walk, walk.
I'm writing this late on a Sunday night in a spiral tablet with a pen in bed and it's a good time to turn out the light and go to sleep.
Today. Lots of sleep last night, a nap in the middle of the morning on top of that, felt like shit. The afternoon is much better to the point I splurged and had a slice of Pepperoni pizza and, having dropped one of my anti-acid pills, life is good, although I must say getting old in combination with this aching head thing sucks.