A Box of Mud

I need to get this out of my system...it's kind of like the "snake-bite" scene in Woody Allen's "Banannas," "you must suck the blood out." In this case, I must suck out the the bad blood of a long, lost day, on the road to nowheresville. Yesterday my "whale chase," was inconclusive, strange, murky, disheartening. I started in the morning with a "box of sunlight," I came back in the afternoon, with a "box of mud." This thought came to me: all hopes are meant to be crushed, all desires to be unmet, all love to be unrequited.

I went to a Board meeting and watched the messy process of democracy in action. It was a theater of the absurd, it was meandering, it was boring, it featured debate and argument, and finally, as climax, one board member actually stomped off in anger while the gavel hammered down closing the meeting. I was left completely in the dark. Did my whale pass by? I couldn't tell.

I took the long train ride home, (this is Dumps talking) in the wind, the cold, the damp depressing murk of a bleak November day. I got home and ended the work day, on the phone, in a testy back and forth with a "figure of authority," who is clueless, pointless, just basically "less!" I had to bite my lip and take a heap of hostility and subtle abuse as pre-dinner snack.

So, anyway, it's a new day...what box today?