I had a couple of "false starts" this morning. I started typing and then deleted what I typed. A rare indecision. What to write about?
The first words I heard on the radio this morning: "Vile & Ridiculous." I know who they are talking about, don't even need to ask. Fuck that guy. He doesn't represent me. He is a plague, a scourge, a blight on the land, a man who conjures a certain toxic mind pollution.
While making the coffee this morning, I was reflecting on a heavy-duty conversation I had yesterday. I am such a lousy worrier. Death, taxes, financial stability. These topics very rarely pop into my consciousness. I spend so much time thinking about lunch, and how I am gonna occupy myself. No time for those big-time worries. Of course, I do worry about the planet, the fate of my species, whether good will conquer evil, when will Americans stop shooting each other, but those big time worries are just standard operating procedure.
Those topics always intrude. My little bubble of blue-sky happiness can be punctured at a moment's notice. Still, I am very good at putting my intention and attention in other places.
I'm spinning Dylan discs on the box, listening to Dylan right now, I have been on a major Dylan kick the last few weeks. What's that line sticking with me this morning? "I'm not going to hell for anybody."
I mean, yes Bob, exactly!
I mean, yes Bob, exactly!
