Itself Better
Thursday. I think I'll back off a bit from my “Obama, you've won, good; now what kind of crap is this you're trying to pull now that you're in power?” to something somewhat softer. My hopes for some move toward a wider based transparent ethical rule of law government are not completely dead down in my soul. You give up on that, you give up on everything. You give up on that and you admit they gotcha, nailed ya, punched your senior ticket - clip! clip! clip! - and chased you away tail between your legs bawling.
So you're happy with this Obama thing?
I was listening to a talk program on public radio as I was writing and one of the callers, a woman as it happens, related how toxic she'd felt the last eight years have been, how eroding of the soul, and I realized how much I related to the emotion in her voice. There have been so many principles I've always thought important in the makeup of this thing we call the American idea, principles and modes of behavior that really did make us special that were not only trampled since 9-11, but trampled without outcry from anyone but a few. So thank god, OK?
That's enough. It's depressing to write this stuff.
Let's see, the toe is better, but I'm still hobbling. The blood is coming back, but it takes time and more time is needed before I can reliably remain on my feet for any period. Having experience with this (in my dark past), it's pretty much going as it should. The sinus-head thing? Fuck it.
Later. We learn by doing. I stubbed the toe some two weeks ago, so I haven't been out doing any walking. With the bleeding thing I haven't been walking at all, that since Monday. This afternoon thinking I'd better get out of my apartment if only to see what was possible, I walked to the bank, stopped at KFC for something they call a wrap, walked back, nothing too strenuous, but boy-howdy: how many times did I stop to take a rest? I remember, but I won't say. Not today. So, I need to build up the blood, do the walking (why do the bottoms of both of my feet hurt?) before I'm again whole. Here in Oakland.
Later still. My cousin's son, Scott Palmason, is performing in Hollywood on Monday the 10th, a day before I'm due to arrive in L.A. to head out for Bisbee with Mr. A on the 12th. Given my current condition (reference the whining above) I'm not going to be able to make the performance, but I suspect he'll be doing this again and heading down there for a performance would be a good test of how all this crap is knitting itself together.
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