Miscellaneous Personal Stuff

          Not Quite Heroism

My stress levels

had been beyond my ability to tolerate them

for weeks.

The day started out

remarkably painfully

even in the context of that month,

but I actually made an effort

and got two things done

before giving up.

            Tempus Fuckit

It occurred to me

that it was only two months

until a certain non-event,

and that the time

would slip by rapidly,

as I slowly and progressively

deteriorated

physically, psychologically, and financially.

                       Scale

I read science blogs,

and prefer the ones

about archaeology, biology, linguistics, and psychology

to those about physics,

since what interests physicists now

seems to be either astrophysics

or quantum mechanics and particle physics,

and I prefer to have science tweak my imagination

about things in sizes I can envision.

                  Sundays

Not having had

a five-days-a-week

job for decades,

I’ve embraced this deviance

from the supposed norm

and emphasised it in my life

by making my passage

through each day

pretty much the same.

Monday? Friday?

I don’t give a fuck.

Except now,

when I’m truly retired,

Sundays stand out.

As I settle in on Sunday morning

I experience the weekly bummer

of comparing my ticket

to the previous evening’s winning numbers

on the lottery’s website

and learning that I’ve lost

once again.

Sunday TV also usually has

more sport that I’d watch

than other days,

which means that I can start drinking noonish

or earlier,

which means I get little or no writing or reading done,

and stumble off to bed early,

throwing me off on Mondays,

when I wake up too early

and spend the day

not wanting to do

jack shit.

   Questionable Pertinence

I know that I’m irrelevant,

devoid of meaning,

and I can’t imagine anybody having

any reason or incentive

to give a flying fuck

about me or my feelings,

so I’m not surprised

when people don’t.

               Oral Objectives

Brushing frequently and carefully

and flossing every couple of days or so

with the objective of retaining my remaining teeth,

having lost two in 2006,

I have become intimately familiar

with the idiosyncratic configuration

of the inside of my mouth.

This, however,

has never been one

of my personal objectives.

      Self-Examination Or Egotism?

I really do try not to think about myself,

since nobody else apparently does,

but it’s bloody hard,

seeing as how I’m always right here, y’know?

where I am and all,

and my neurochemical make-up

being the tricky bunch of molecules it is.

Thinking about myself, after all,

tends to lead to thinking about my pain

rather than my privileges,

and my personal inadequacies

rather than any positive personality features

that I may have.

     Sense and Nonsense

When it comes to my own life,

nothing at all makes any sense,

except the sinking void,

which makes no sense at all.

                                  Sad Logic

If anybody thought that I was sufficiently worthwhile

for them to take the time to care for me, they would.