this, that, and the other thing
After I’d been awake for a while, today, after I’d had some physical experiences, the thought came to me I ought to and could live this day like it’s the last one I get on the planet. There maybe 10,000 more, who knows? But, this is the one I have, this particular and unique and special day into which I woke up and got up and, voila, came to a keyboard again.
In a way I’m kind of tired of writing these weekday Blog posts, well over a year now. And then there is the thrill – every day – of seeing another posted in my Couch Surfing Blog. I feel both. Explaining myself about anything feels unnecessary, pretty much all the time these days of my life. It’s pretty crazy when I think about it, I live in San Diego. A Wareham kid. Man, the ongoing path, curvy, swirly, filled up, chocked full, with joys and screw-ups and gratitudes and regrets, how we’d say when I was a kid – this, that, and the other thing.
Innocent people being killed, maimed, destroyed in Ukraine is truly terrible. The terribles are here, maybe always, maybe often, possibly just sometimes. My personal empty-headedness barely registering on the planet’s ongoing journaling. Dear dairy, says the planet, the terribles are back and that guy in San Diego is pretty clueless. Maybe what Pink Floyd meant – “the Great Gig in the sky.”
It’s Wednesday morning and I’m planning to burst out into the day a lot, drink coffees, and hopefully read gobs of pages from truly amazing books. I get that my amazement isn’t your amazement. Doesn’t make it any less amazing for me. Around my new tattoo is itchy, and I’ve started thinking about possibly getting another one. Keeping in mind that this might be the last day I get. And as I have a car insurance payment pending, and a tax bill for the state of Oregon, paying for another tattoo today isn’t going into the calculator. Though the amount of pages from books I read may.
I sat down here pretty much before anything today with the thought of wondering how exactly I’ll honor this precious gift if it’s the last one I get. And, I know – a big “Duh”. Isn’t this the way to think about every day there is?