Waiting For the Foghorn to Blow

clinton 003

“I believe in everything until it’s disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it’s in your mind. Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?”  ~ John Lennon

This fine fellow is Clinton, a success story, to be sure, yet he remains in the animal shelter. He would make a good home a happier home. Please note that his left ear has been cropped at the top. This is a way of providing service to Animal Control. The crop represents the fact that the animal has been neutered, so when the officer sees the cat with a cropped ear they know that it will not reproduce.  The animal is out there running free because of the feral release program. The officer can let the animal be. But Clinton became more socialized before he was released. His growing good nature kept him available for adoption. He became transformed and awaits going home. He is skittish but he is affectionate if you approach him slowly.

It’s another cold morning, -6º. It would be so easy to go back to bed and await a warmer moment. Responsibility makes that unlikely. Sigh. This down cycle on my bipolar spectrum is no less incorrigible than any other low. It is laced with fear, and is persistent at nothing in particular. What is the purpose of depression? Does it have a purpose at all? I don’t rightly know, but I do remember the most prominent stressor in the recent past. and stressors will almost always take me down. I watched a man nearly lose his career because of finely crafted words and ideas that were then let loose into the world. Turned out that proof may not be necessary where words alone can bring a man down. I’m dancing around the point here. Call it prudence. I don’t want to put my own well-being on the line by aggravating the forces that took my friend down. It’s a form of censorship, or at least it seems that way to me.  It’s for the best to say no more.

I’m in a fog this morning. I’m waiting for the foghorn to blow. In the meantime Ill stop writing and see if I can muster some momentum or something like it. There are parts of the coming day that I just plain don’t want to have to face. Poor me. Ob la di ob la da. Let’s do the right thing. Thanks, yer a pal.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.



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