Rage writing

 Writing in a rage. Not now. Yesterday. I wonder if I can publish the things that I say. I should, but political posts tend to cause a nasty backlash. I am simply perplexed, astonished, amazed that we are in the situation we are in. I am grieving. 

Slipping on flip flops, I step away and take a short walk in a loop to the lake and back up to the swimming pool. I attempt to swim the rage away. Another beautiful day, but another day that will get too hot and cause my worry for the cat to continue. The week will gradually get hotter with Friday being 39 degrees Celsius (102F). There appears to be no reprieve. 

Work begins after the swim, 07:30am, and it’s a relatively calm morning. People are on vacation, maternity leave, paternity leave, sick leave… it seems that mankind as a whole, even if enjoying a job somewhat, is always trying to escape. I invest like a man possessed in the hope of retiring as early as humanly possible. Morning activities mostly done, a mimosa seems the right thing to do on a day such as this. A day of too many thoughts, of being too aware of the silences, of reading about the chaos. And the worst thing that can happen is that they dull your creativity by causing rage or boredom. So many are so boring. One of my greatest challenges in life has been being unable to relate to most. I mean those whose lives are so conventional that they have never encountered creativity outside of the workplace. 

Life can be beautiful, but it is often unequal. I am very fortunate and very grateful for all that I have. Thank you. 



Cat (Fundar) at sunrise. 


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