I live with a world-class worrier, and I am acquainted with a few more worriers of admirable heft & distinction. I mean, I know some Olympic-level worriers.
I am kind a slacker when it comes to worrying. I take off after Mad Magazine's Alfred E. Neuman. Sure, maybe Alfred and I are less the worrying kind because of our short-sighted-ness, or just plain stubborness, or deep ignorance. You know, maybe the ignorance is so deep we have no idea how dumb we really are?
My remedy to that? Go with the idea: "I know nothing." Or The Firesign Theatre's "Everything You Know is Wrong." And "We are all Bozos on this Bus."A good starting point, a way to find, feed and keep alive, your sense of wonder and curiosity. A way forward.
For some reason, when I see Alfred's smiling face, I think of Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn. Put a straw hat on Alfred's head, dress him up in some faded overalls, and well, "Hello Huckleberry." Such an All-American Kid.
When I was a kid I had lots of freckles and crooked teeth too. I was a smiley, happy go lucky kid. I think that is still embedded deep in my being all these many years later. The freckles have faded, the teeth are still crooked.
So, anyway, the reality?
I am worried. I mean as a "woke-minded-Human," of course, I am worried. Super-damn worried about the way things are unfolding & unraveling here in the USA. But, at the same time, I am always chasing rabbits down rabbits holes. Every day pursuing private obsessions and diversions. It's a way of redirecting the worry. Maybe sublimating it? It's work. An expression of energy. Can be quite tiring.
A good way to start the day? When perusing the news, you say to yourself: "I wonder how the Tricky-Monkeys are fucking up today?" A healthy approach to the news.
Still, I keep my head up, my feet on the ground, and take each day as it comes. It's a way of managing the worry. I suppose there is a discipline and defiance in that stance, even if the smile sort of masks the steely determination. You think Alfred is just a dumb kid, right, but he's a god-damned battle-tested warrior too. Not easy to push around, or to scare.
So, yeah, a roiling tornado of emotions inside; smiling, glad-handing demeanor outside. With a fiery stance of defiance swirling in my head: You know: "Fuck it." And "Damn the torpedoes." "What, me worry?!
