The amazing amount of slickly useless, idiotic noise from America continues unabated.
Here in Gouna, we are settling into Spring.
The sun is hotter during the day. In the villa where I am living (for only another 10 days, or so), the rokham (marble, in Gum Arabico) floors are now a pleasanter air temperature, and no longer feel cold when walked upon with bare feet.
There are songbirds in the garden, and the neighborhood cats are not unaware of them.
The American media twists and turns: Trump this, Trump that, Trump the other thing, but here none of that matters.
What does matter is what you have control over.
I came to Egypt with a waist size of 44″. Yes, I was a whale. Obese. Fat. A porker. About a month ago, I was able to fit into my size 38 cargo pants, and now I can squeeze into my size 36″ trousers. Bastid stomach still hangs out on those, but not on the 38s. But then, I have not been able 2 even try to button a size 36 pair of pants for at least 10 years, maybe more.
Being thin(ish), again, and living a peaceful life, is more important to me than any nonsense emanating from trumplandia.
Today I shall walk to town, buy some food and water, and renew my bus ticket.
The Nero-fiddling-as-Rome-burns mantra means nothing here in Gouna.
There are disturbing things happening in this country that I am aware of, and, yes, I have nothing to say about them, for I have other fish to fry. My fish. My fries.
What happens when you, by choice, isolate yourself from the nonsense, is that you cease to care about the rubbish and noise produced by…
The ones with the palaver uniforms.
The ones with the sharkskin suits.
The ones with the shiny smiles, who talk about populism.
The ones who live off empty lies.
The ones who take off their shirts.
The ones who think they are ever so clever.
The ones who use big words.
The ones who use equations to prove nothing.
The ones who use equations to manufacture false promises of money.
The ones who deny any country that is stolen is illegitimate.
The ones who say this and that
frick and frack
here is the answer
it’s over there
no it’s over here
no it’s the other way.
The ones who say, football is important.
The ones who go to see movies.
The ones who read books, or write them.
The ones who try to speak with precision, or
The ones who can’t but spread their legs instead.
The ones who love the arithmetic of division.
The one who bend the truth because they can.
The ones who think of themselves as minstrels,
Wielding the executioner’s ax.
Briefly had FOX on before walking to downtown Gouna to buy my stuff.
There is a war afoot. Time to go on with the real life, or sit on the sidelines, thinking about how cozy I have it here?