Hokey Smokes

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“Man may behold what ugliness he likes if he is sure that he will not worship it; but there are some so weak that they will worship a thing only because it is ugly. These must be chained to the beautiful. It is not always wrong even to go, like Dante, to the brink of the lowest promontory and look down at hell. It is when you look up at hell that a serious miscalculation has probably been made.”  ~  G. K. Chesterton

All better, now. Yesterday was a tough one, but I made it work. It exhausted me to ‘shackle the demon’, as it were. There have been few days when I stayed home to hide from the world while the demon that is depression had it’s way with me. Better to shackle the wretch and get to it. That’s what I say. I have no way of truly describing the process by which I put on a brave face and go to my daily duties. On the surface I just look like me straightening up my beleaguered posture and walking from my car into the store where I work, glancing at the crows that like to hang around there. In those dark times it is always a balm to stop by the gas station for a cup of joe. My favorite usual stop is at the Giant station at the four-way intersection where US 64 heads west into the dramatic country out beyond the Rio Grande Gorge. That store has the feel of an outpost, and the general tone of the place is more rural than in town. More relaxed. Less bother. The woman who usually works the counter there is named Hope. I’ve come to make wordplay with her name, as a ploy to knock the looming shadow of depression off its metaphorical feet. Hope wasn’t working yesterday. Good on her. But the younger woman there did have a sweet, shy smile that made me go “ahhh”. The sweet smile of a pretty woman is one of my more favorite things in life. That’s one big reason I like working retail: you get a lot of that. Yes, yesterday was a long day. I fell asleep before the chickens went to roast. Woke up at 11:15 PM. Went out into the dark yard to close the chicken coop door. Stayed awake for a while, reading whatever dirt I could find on Donald Trump (That little boy’s got a demon in him alright). Went back to sleep for another three hours. Woke up with the hair on the left side of my head sticking pretty much straight out to the side. Not your most fashionable look; that said while considering the times, and how men spend good money on hairstyles that make their mop look messy, held in that pose with shellac or something. I don’t get it. My messy hair was a result of anxiety dreams. Happens every time. I could go on. But what it comes down to is like a scene from the cartoons, when after a nefarious try at making bad stuff happen Boris Badenov looks over at Natasha and says “Moose and Squirrel”. The heroes have arrived, goofy though they may be, and the baddies stand defeated, only to return another day. And Rocky is like all hokey smokes Bullwinkle. Boy howdy, I went through hell yesterday. But I can’t say it was totally subjective. Depression has a powerful physical presence as well. That’s why I feel all beat up this morning. But the coffee helped. And the cool morning air. And so will the pretty smiles I will see today. Who knows; maybe I will be able to stay awake until sunset this evening? As Captain Jean Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise says: make it so.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

 

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