“Almost nothing important that ever happens to you happens because you engineer it. Destiny has no beeper; destiny always leans trenchcoated out of an alley with some sort of ‘psst’ that you usually can’t even hear because you’re in such a rush to or from something important you’ve tried to engineer. ” ~ David Foster Wallace
“Everything is determined, the beginning as well as the end, by forces over which we have no control. It is determined for the insect, as well as for the star. Human beings, vegetables, or cosmic dust, we all dance to a mysterious tune, intoned in the distance by an invisible piper.” ~ Albert Einstein
Earlier this morning I was sitting here in the chair, laid back, hands behind my head, wondering why I was so nearly inclined to go back to sleep. It should have been obvious – I’ve been working five days straight. It was my default system, having commandeered the obvious, then replacing it with that lovely old maxim, “Shouldn’t you . . . ?”. No. Just no. Regardless of all the things I might be doing there comes a time, once in a while, randomly cast by fate, when just sitting still is the height of propriety. It’s even since then been tough to pull myself out of the sloth continuum. Here I sit, writing a short blog post. But that doesn’t mean I want to, does it? Well, yeh I do. It’s complicated; simply complicated. Sigh. Thinking too much.
Since the previous paragraph I have been outside to look at the sunrise. No yellow, orange, or red. No lavender, no mauve. But nice. The magpies rule the morning with some mildly raucous proclamations. I’m not sure what they are on about but something is obviously providing stimulation. Turtledoves as well. The air is fresh and cool. Simple stuff. No worries. It is . . . does anyone ever say “it is what it is” when something really cool or stimulating happens? Maybe that’s what the magpies are saying. Quoth the magpie, “whatever”. Now, moving forward, until the end of the day, until the cows come home, or the chickens go to roost. Today is massage day. Good! There are enough knots in this body to make up a gale force wind. That’s anywhere from 34-47 knots. Any more than that requires a storm warning. So I’ll be on the massage table fending off the storm. I’m hoping to be lazy for the bulk of the day. I’d like that. Sway like a willow in the wind, while keeping an eye on the breaking political news. There’s a lot of breaking news these days. They’d better knock that shit off. Something might get broken. Have you just noticed that when I get deeply tired I tend toward questionable wordplay? Whatever.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.