Sore Feet and Alternate Realities


“Lonely people tend, rather, to be lonely because they decline to bear the psychic costs of being around other humans. They are allergic to people. People affect them too strongly.” ~  David Foster Wallace

Yesterday’s deep freeze kind of morning was just painful enough for me to lose track of the beauty for a while. My bad. But this morning is compulsory laundry day and we all know by now how I feel about the laundromat. It will be nice, a nice break from Trumpian reality. There’s a lot of talk these days about alternate realities. I for one resent it. Why can’t peeps just keep their realities to themselves?! I officially, as of today, declare resistance to this Trump shit. Even Pandora wouldn’t have gone this far. But I woke up feeling sick this morning, so I might be a tad grumpy. As far as I know the cat had no hand, paw, whatever, in my waking. It’s nice to have a little respite from her manipulations. And about the massage? It will happen. That’s a note to myself BTW. This blog often serves as a reminder to me, of things that are important. Even the simple act of writing something down makes it a little more real. That is important. It has been important ever since my first SS payment arrived. The reality shift is proving to be so pervasive that I feel humbled by its effects. My feeling sick is likely a symptom of the shift. I’ve been necessarily thrown off balance. When balance falters illness can creep in. My sense is that the illness serves to get one to slow the heck down. As dear Brother Phil sometimes told me, you have to break down your feet to adjust to a new pair of shoes. You can’t just let the shoes do all the work. Speaking of shoes and feet and stuff, one of the kids at work asked me the other day if my feet ever ache from being on them all day long at work? I never really thought about it, so when I told him they didn’t ache I caught the gist of what I had just said and I was like all how cool is that dude(?). How odd though. He is a veteran. He was in the Army. I’d a thunk that the Army would help you get used to sore feet. Am I missing something here? Let’s leave it at that. One last note – my first reader yesterday morning came from Ireland. I don’t know why, but that just tickles me.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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