It wasn’t much. The forecast boded ill, but coastal California isn’t such a hazard with regard to Autumn’s spill. It wasn’t much.
When I heed media I’m out of touch. I venture and find air that won’t fulfill the threats reporters say to ply their clutch
at eyes and ears and minds that get a thrill from peril like to gossip’s heady crutch, that slows their pace and dampens down their will. It wasn’t much.
A specialist in negativity, she’s honed her attitude for 60 years. Her nasty childhood pathology inspired her toward safety, it appears. In love and life she chose to blunt her fears, which bored her and embittered how she thought. Her pretty face has twisted, and her tears are swamped by alcohol her husband bought.
His shoulder fits my palm exquisitely. And though I’ve been besotted since his start, there’s now a tender bony quality that heats and even pulls my heart apart to make an ever bigger space, where he can safely lodge in love and memory. I know and hope the boy will grow to man, but I will cherish 7 while I can.
I used to watch the news and sometimes look around me on the bus, the train, the street, and wonder who was packing what it took to harm. Who had a knife in a discreet location? Were there hidden guns aboard? The folks around were varied, and benign I had assumed, but media assured me peril was about without a sign.
I never saw the evidence, and now my queries on my peers are shifted so I wonder who is feeling sick, or how they’re dealing with depression. I don’t know how many suffer reflux, headaches, gas, and who believes their misery will pass.
I got reminded viewing my own verse. I read some lines I drafted just last week, and triggered memory that could be worse, regarding images I’ve set to seek. I’m nothing medical, yet I can nurse today intention that is not unique for me but cherished. I’ve no bucket list, but here’s a cup that’s not to be dismissed.
For half an hour yesterday, I sat upon my leather loveseat and before a room-enhancing fire, like a cat in cozy comfort, socks above the floor and cushioned on a footrest I adore. I felt for 30 minutes no intent or obligation, relaxation more than excellent, and perfectly content.
Perhaps the populace is dumbing down. It seems unfiltered speech is on the rise. And insight’s swamped among some tides that drown consideration. This is no surprise. The signals have been here without disguise – since 17, I’ve seen the evidence. But lately what is striking ears and eyes is dearth of wit and sparse intelligence.
A drizzle seemed to chase the kids away. Traversing campus, there were none about. I snapped the shot proceeding on my way to Downtown Berkeley, and I found them, shout- ing, socializing where the train tracks lay. But not, it seemed, to travel. They were out upon the platform, but they all ignored four trains. Nobody moved to get aboard.
Some minor inconveniences this week have over-occupied a tired soul. Computer glitch, discovered drainpipe leak, and need to make two calls to put control where fit, have seemed to charge a hefty toll, and left the bearer feeling quite upset. Today’s assignment’s to review the role, unplug and re-engage, to rise reset.