Maybe after Soup
2/14/2010 12:16 PM – 12:39 PM
I suppose that it’s late now for writing. I like to have it done before noon. Before eleven preferably. But it is a Sunday (which is my Saturday) and I like to do so very little on my first day off. I have one day a week when I don’t feel particularly guilty for wasting a morning and I should revel in it. I began the day right. Up at 9. Sit for ten minutes. Drink coffee. And then the internet…
I wasted time on the internet, looking up this and that, but then I did actual work for a bit. I looked up my insurance company’s web site and found a local doctor. Actually, what I ended up finding was a local association of doctor. I emailed them requesting an appointment for a general physical. I was hoping to have quit smoking for at least two weeks before doing that, but I’ve been paying for this insurance for a month now and seeing the gouge it’s left in my paycheck without seeing any reason for having it. So, off to the doctor’s I will go and he (or she) will tell me what I already know: quit smoking, lose weight, exercise regularly, eat healthier. I’m only 33. I’ve got time to fix things.
I finally figured out a good weight-lifting schedule. In a few weeks, I’ll take the first run of the new season. Every day for the rest of your life. That is a large statement. Well, I hope it is. No more smokes. Every day. Exercise. Every day. Sleep enough. Every day. Write. Every day. Sit. Every day. There are a lot of Every Days left. I hope. There is falsehood in the dictum to live every day as your last. Truth as well, but falsehood dominates. There are a lot more Every Days than there are Last Days. It’s cold and cloudy and there is snow on the ground and I wish I wasn’t such a coward. I wish I could go for a long walk. Or a long run. I wish I didn’t need an excuse to go outside and look and smell. But it is warm in here and there are many things that need doing. But perhaps I shall anyway. Maybe after a nap. Maybe after some soup. The trees across the street, their branches touch. They get more physical contact than I do. They don’t care, of course. They’re trees. This isn’t Avatar. The planet doesn’t give two shits about who walks upon it or what they do to it. We’re the weirdoes. Projecting ourselves into the rocks and calling them brothers. We’ll be brothers when we’re as dead as they will never be. But the thought is comforting. Maybe out into the cold. Maybe on a long walk. Maybe after soup.
I suppose that it’s late now for writing. I like to have it done before noon. Before eleven preferably. But it is a Sunday (which is my Saturday) and I like to do so very little on my first day off. I have one day a week when I don’t feel particularly guilty for wasting a morning and I should revel in it. I began the day right. Up at 9. Sit for ten minutes. Drink coffee. And then the internet…
I wasted time on the internet, looking up this and that, but then I did actual work for a bit. I looked up my insurance company’s web site and found a local doctor. Actually, what I ended up finding was a local association of doctor. I emailed them requesting an appointment for a general physical. I was hoping to have quit smoking for at least two weeks before doing that, but I’ve been paying for this insurance for a month now and seeing the gouge it’s left in my paycheck without seeing any reason for having it. So, off to the doctor’s I will go and he (or she) will tell me what I already know: quit smoking, lose weight, exercise regularly, eat healthier. I’m only 33. I’ve got time to fix things.
I finally figured out a good weight-lifting schedule. In a few weeks, I’ll take the first run of the new season. Every day for the rest of your life. That is a large statement. Well, I hope it is. No more smokes. Every day. Exercise. Every day. Sleep enough. Every day. Write. Every day. Sit. Every day. There are a lot of Every Days left. I hope. There is falsehood in the dictum to live every day as your last. Truth as well, but falsehood dominates. There are a lot more Every Days than there are Last Days. It’s cold and cloudy and there is snow on the ground and I wish I wasn’t such a coward. I wish I could go for a long walk. Or a long run. I wish I didn’t need an excuse to go outside and look and smell. But it is warm in here and there are many things that need doing. But perhaps I shall anyway. Maybe after a nap. Maybe after some soup. The trees across the street, their branches touch. They get more physical contact than I do. They don’t care, of course. They’re trees. This isn’t Avatar. The planet doesn’t give two shits about who walks upon it or what they do to it. We’re the weirdoes. Projecting ourselves into the rocks and calling them brothers. We’ll be brothers when we’re as dead as they will never be. But the thought is comforting. Maybe out into the cold. Maybe on a long walk. Maybe after soup.
posted by Spike at 9:41 AM
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