Welcome back fellow revelers, your readership is truly an honor! Trapped at home today with some relatively debilitating back pain at least I’m afforded an opportunity to babble incoherently. It should be mentioned that some prescription medication was imbibed such that my on again/ off again relationship with cogency may be due some general disruption. I do apologise for the irony.
Who cares for change? I mean outside the mentally well-adjusted, the indigent and my impressively long overdue Brita filter? Admittedly I’m tapdancing all over the cliché here but our sedentary lifestyles can easily permeate through to our general life outlook. Whether you never get off the couch for real, only in your head or my personal favourite, both, I think the aura of mortality’s inevitability becomes increasingly pronounced the more we allow ourselves to stagnate in response to new experiences. Option 3 really does provide the greatest value though. Is anyone deciphering this lunacy at all? Regardless of whether obesity, a deleterious mental paradigm or both claim you the result remains static. So be like my Brita filter, cry out everyday for positive change until you succeed. Or I drop you off the counter again and you shatter. No one bats .1000.
Annoyingly I do have some preplanned material, though I’m sure many would prefer my intoxicated bloviating let’s push through. I’m well off prompter at this point.
This is more of a bumper sticker or a dust ruffle blurb really but it’s vaguely cute and contains solid advice of the redoubtable varietal.
Untitled, The other day, Earth.
To be concerned exclusively with perfection
Is to never achieve a meaningful goal
Banishing anything appearing subpar
Is the surest path to nothing.
So often I’ll catch myself shamefacedly deleting ideas or concepts that initially seem outrageous but could easily be remade into something productive. No one is standing over your shoulder laughing at your dumb ideas, presumably, so be patient with yourself and remember that just because you put an ugly swing on the ball doesn’t mean it can’t be a hit. Dig? Baseball analogy…
That’s about as many words as I can string together at this time. Hardly a pearl necklace but still better than getting your fingers trapped inside an ornery clam.
Go in peace, dear friends.
A fractured mind held together by cellophane and some used tack.