Monday, July 18, 2011
I often catch myself twisting my beard but it hasn't gotten me to stop or shave (speculative memoir)
I'd like to spend more time meditating.
He thought about the lizard. He was just trying to catch it, put in the the cup, and take it outside. Catch and release. They couldn't have a lizard in the house. No matter how tiny - less than an inch tongue to tail. How he caught it with the plastic take out tub. Caught it on it's throat on the wall up and to the right of the tv, above the amplifier and the geisha. And then there was no choice but to kill it. To crush it's little body against the wall, behead the poor bastard in a brown smear and then get a pile of Kleenex to clean off the wall. At least that stain could be removed. He had just wanted to shoo it out of the house.
I sprained my ankle in the ocean. Water was waist deep or so and the waves were coming on strong because of some tropical storm or another. High for the Atlantic, high for the summer. And the floor was distinctly uneven. And I was running. Probably should have chosen to dive earlier but I didn't have my goggles on and I wanted to delay the dull insistent burn of salt water on the contact lenses. Not a bad sprain but on my good ankle. Or a least it was.
The Master asks the Acolyte: "What is Jesus?"
Answer: "Three bearded cats."
I leave my shoes near the door. Sandals mostly. Almost exclusively. I like my toes to wiggle, my feet to be free and to stretch. It is debilitating. I over-pronate and should restrict myself to sturdy shoes with custom built orthotics. I should brush my teeth twice a day and refrain from cussing at children. Fitter. Happier. More productive.