Thursday, December 28, 2006
forty and two-thirds
I had this to say about one of the Late Great Cardinal Fang's postings:
Dude, you just totally blew my mind. As I was reading your post and continuing as I type these words, now playing, and I'm joshing you negative, right fucking now on RadioParadise.com: Pink Floyd - Fearless.
Synchroncity indeed.
I'm feeling a bit the same at forty and a third.
Okay, so I did the math wrong. I'm at forty and two thirds.
It is a beautiful early winter morning. Reflections of pink, gold, and orange light from the rising Sun cause the morning clouds to glow like neon cotton candy animals. The air is pleasantly cool, comfortable jacket weather.
Perhaps this is just a mid-holiday low and it shall be gone along with the champagne come the new year. Perhaps it is something more, and that is my fear.
I awoke about an hour ago, not gently to the warm embrace of The Wife as she sleeps beside me, but curled up in the fetal position on the far side of the bed clutching a pillow. And I woke up worried.
My worries are many, and very in their urgency and severity. And that my dear reader, is just not me. Underlying it all is the realization that I am much more grasshopper than ant, and winter is coming.
I will mention them no further now lest they become prophesies of self-fulfillment.
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Dude, you just totally blew my mind. As I was reading your post and continuing as I type these words, now playing, and I'm joshing you negative, right fucking now on RadioParadise.com: Pink Floyd - Fearless.
Synchroncity indeed.
I'm feeling a bit the same at forty and a third.
_______________
Okay, so I did the math wrong. I'm at forty and two thirds.
It is a beautiful early winter morning. Reflections of pink, gold, and orange light from the rising Sun cause the morning clouds to glow like neon cotton candy animals. The air is pleasantly cool, comfortable jacket weather.
Perhaps this is just a mid-holiday low and it shall be gone along with the champagne come the new year. Perhaps it is something more, and that is my fear.
I awoke about an hour ago, not gently to the warm embrace of The Wife as she sleeps beside me, but curled up in the fetal position on the far side of the bed clutching a pillow. And I woke up worried.
My worries are many, and very in their urgency and severity. And that my dear reader, is just not me. Underlying it all is the realization that I am much more grasshopper than ant, and winter is coming.
I will mention them no further now lest they become prophesies of self-fulfillment.
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