Today was a satisfyingly simple day. Routine things happened predictably, with a sense of proportion. There was a meticulousness to daily activities. Washing dishes with attention to detail. Noticing the slimy quality of Joy.
It was not what you might call a Herculean day.
I performed few Herculean tasks.
I did not think about savagery or injustice, nor for that matter, savage justice, or even judicial savagery.
Instead, I took the dog out to a nearby park that has a public slipway. She has been there many times before, but not recently.
More people go there (than where I have been taking her of late: an isolated mini soccer field), and large dogs (off and on leash), bicycle riders, runners, speed walkers, and boaters.
Good for socializing her.
For example, Poochie thought twice about bullying (as she does with smaller dogs being walked by little old ladies who freeze in their tracks and stare at you once they see your GSD) any of those macho bad boys with the large teeth that she saw out there today.
After the walk I did some programming, made a pasta lunch for my wife and I, took a nap, and ordered a few more delta 8 products: the gummies again, but this time the black raspberry flavor.
Also the tincture you see above, which ought go well with my rosemary tisane.
Lastly, this, both the milk and the dark chocolate bar.
Disturbingly, both vendors turned my charge card into a debit card. Instead of hitting my CC account, they went directly at my checking account. This is a red flag. A perturbation on the sheen of immense tranquility,
Also, I can’t seem to place the Blue Planet logo
Now I remember
Flattery, I reckon.
Perfect morning breeze earlier, with blue skies and little humidity. Soon, it’ll become warm enough to smell the potent Night Jasmine bush outside my screened-in back porch.
It often evokes faintly psychotropic images of Tennessee Williams’ tiny Key West conch house, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, and memories of my Circassian great-grandmother’s voluptuously decadent garden at her villa in Alex, before it was ruined.
Much has been ruined, of course, and continues to be so — why even today, one could see that many more things were ruined, just by reading the newspapers.
The relentless tragedy of ruination can sometimes be unbearable, or comic.
But in this dark forest of decimation, we need not grimly fear, nor brood, nor bemoan any of our many lost causes.
In the name of Ingmar Bergman, I say nej: we are, in fact, better than that.
We shall succeed! If not tomorrow, then certainly soon.
Those losses from before — water over a duck’s tail, friend.
After all…. we have the gummy worms, we have the sugary cannabinoids, we have time on our hands, and miles on our feet.
No need to be the sad one ever again.
Better Living Through Chemistry?
We stink not.
Buzzed or straight, one must always pay attention to the red flags, keep far from the Purple Urkle, and never forget that lonely teardrop of yore.