Sort It Out
Friday. Friday the 13th. I wonder how many people elect to take their first sky dive on a Friday the 13th? One or two, no doubt, but probably because it turned out the plane was only available on that one particular day. Or they gave you a cut rate, the pilot agreeing to fly for half price, what with the problems they've been having with their flying business, even a cut rate allowing them to do the much needed maintenance on the motor that's been delayed now for too many months but only, of course, after you've done your stunt. No doubt it will all work out.
You're planning to jump out of an airplane today?
No airplanes, parachutes or similar paraphernalia today or tomorrow. I was thinking of attending the local Burning Man extravaganza later this evening - pictures of fire might be interesting, particularly since I didn't attend any fireworks shows over the Fourth - and the head, well, the head seems pretty good today (as it did yesterday, not quite as good as it did yesterday, but the day is young) and I want to get more active now that I've retired.
“I want to do this, I want to do that.” Boiler plate. Writing without meaning. Keep it on track!
Now, now. This is a journal. I'll go back months or years from now and undoubtedly see the layers of self-deceit and denial, but for the moment they're opaque and I have not a clue where any of this is leading.
Later. I met with MRE and MRS at Roy's place on 19th just before noon and spent four or so hours discussing the nature of the universe, art and life and the current political situation over a series of glasses of Guinnesss, a hot dog (with mustard and relish) and a mixture of peanuts and potato chips, but not too many peanuts and potato chips as we didn't want to get in over our heads. It's so easy anymore to get in over your head. How has the day gone, how is the head? Hard to say until the day comes into focus again and I can sort it out.
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