...
I got out to the store and back before the downpour. I'm feeling muscular and self-satisfied and now completely convinced my windshield wipers need replacing really badly. They tell me at the grocery store that I should go to the Brookings Elks Club for cheap cocktails sometimes and it could land me my wealthy old bachelor. I'm plotting it now.
I know it sounds stupid and conceited to be so pleased with myself for barely functioning, but, fuck, my doctor tried to kill me a scant few months ago, and I don't think you realize I was not being hyperbolic about that. Contrary to form, I settled on the very least colorful speech to describe it.
I was doing the not-meditative kind of sitting and staring blankly for most of every day for quite a while. Yes. Not meditating. Near brain deathing was what I was working mightily in spirit to overcome.
...
And, I really cannot believe it still, but, it's true, I love this version a few hunnert thousand times better than Simon & Garfunkle's.
Don't seem to be able to help it.
you can still pipe up any time....
