A Perceptual Problem

“But you never know when the magic will descend on you. You never know when the grooves will open up. And once the magic descends you don’t want to change even the smallest detail. You don’t know what concordance of factors and variables yields that calibrated can’t-miss feeling, and you don’t want to soil the magic by trying to figure it out, but you don’t want to change your grip, your stick, your side of the court, your angle of incidence to the sun. Your heart’s in your throat every time you change sides of the court.” ~ David Foster Wallace

“I think the truth is probably that enormous, sudden, dramatic, unexpected, life-changing experiences are not translatable or explainable to anyone else, and this is because they really are unique and particular—though not unique in the way the Christian girl believed. This is because their power isn’t just a result of the experience itself, but also of the circumstances in which it hits you, of everything in your previous life-experience which has led up to it and made you exactly who and what you are when the experience hits you.” ~ David Foster Wallace

Fresh coffee, Rosie the cat asleep on the bed. Tinnitus cranked up to 11. Every once in a while I go back to the Mayo Clinic website to check and make sure I understood it right: tinnitus is a perceptual problem. That renders the reality of the condition irrelevant. It doesn’t matter if it is real or not, if it bugs you enough you end up thinking about it anyway. Says me. Point is, this morning I perceive high decibels. I suppose I should be grateful that it ain’t real. Yeh, I can do that. Say, do ya reckon tinnitus is an illusion? I find that question to be seductive. Geez, enough already. It’s a questionable use of intellect, this time of the morning, to push the boundaries of absurdity. But With Trump in the world them thar boundaries are far afield. Nuff said. As for me, I haven’t been feeling exactly vital the past few days. Likely that was why I missed posting for two days in a row. No biggie. Anyway, today is what my massage therapist calls my “Spa day”. I see her in the morning then drive straight on over to the psychotherapist. Body, Mind, and Spirit. The first two are covered with the skills of two lovely women, who also happen to be excellent at what they do. The Spirit part is pretty much up to me. I should probably do my taxes this afternoon, but that would be a waste of a day of therapy. I think I will just commune with the Universe instead. Be at home. Feel at home. I’ve got me a nice little respite from active depression goin’. These times are worth savoring. It all comes down to the moment. That should be quite enough, thank you very much. That’s gratitude for ya. And I ain’t bein’ the least bit ironic by saying that. My gratitude is real.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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