Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Youth is not wasted on nature




(T. Rex and the Monsterbot)


A politician becoming ill is a very bad sign. Who is to say whether it will be drought or locusts, but this year's crops will be completely wiped out. It's a sign from Zeus, rolling down Mt. Olympus like thunderclaps. 

They have not yet ruled out menopause as being Trump's affliction. 


After losing a third pair of glasses (my original and only pair left) in the last four months I began to question my own memory. Then, my son found my glasses at mom's house, where I suspected they were all along. Somehow, I then forgot to announce this important update to my loyal readers, which is another bad sign of a failing memory. 

I might forget that I've typed the above in a few days and tell you the story all over again, then we'll know for sure. I may be prematurely senile. I have started to complain under my breath about the rising cost of McDonald's coffee. 


The boy and I went to the Farmers Market at Sonoma Square last night. We wandered around, climbed trees, drank wine (me), and ate all types of delicious food stuff, ahi poke bowls, corn dogs and root beer (boy). We met up with the mother of one of the boy's friends and chatted wittily as the sun moved beyond the buildings, as their shadows moved towards and then beyond us. 

Do not let the picture above fool you. The only water near here is the duck pond. A surface that is best not breached for the purpose of leisurely swimming

I believe they may have just practicing running on pool decks.




It is beginning to become cold here, though the weather computer says it'll be warmer this weekend. I hope so. I wish to cling to the feeling I have when riding my bike up into the heated hills, desperately. The cold and wet winters here might destroy the weight that I have lost, calling it back in from the distance to collect again around my vitals. Winter creeps over me as kudzu does the south. 

I'll need to find some exercise I can do through the winter months so that my abiding passion for being fat does not coil up inside of me like a boa constrictor that has already discovered its dinner. After months of independent research I've determined that it is not only alcohol that carries calories where they are most needed, but that food can also cause one to balloon into the full American form.


It's all a sham, that life presents its fullest richness to us when we have less capacity to understand it. We are condemned to merely enjoy youth, to let it overwhelm us into creation, right as we start to think we have things figured out. 

If I were somehow granted my younger body again - knowing what I now know - then I might just re-enjoy every single mistake that I ever made. 








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