Oh, the rains. The weather that tames and then saturates the flickered complacence. Fate is not your friend, daughters and sons. You are not safe, yet.
Yes, i'm too slow.
It was a surprise that we forgot, being caught just short of the edge, an old run through the rye that you have inherited. Each over their shrinking flock. Oh, the rains.
-
I have been in hotels for three weeks. This newest one might be fifteen minutes from the ocean, but i don't know for sure. Today it rained so we stopped working early. I swam in the big indoor pool. I had it all to myself. Thirty-thousand cubic feet and humid, awash in the caged sounds of pumped waterjets. I didn't know what to do, floating there. So i swam back and forth in laps. I could feel the accumulations of the effort in my biceps. I guess that i do not use those enough, but who gives a fuck?
I have put myself on a vitamin regimen lately. It is a green fluid with everything i could possibly need, including 200% of my daily manganese. I gag on a capful per day, so that i do not have to feel too bad about having chips and salsa for dinner. I plan to start running, to get more in shape for hiking this summer. I don't know where i will be hiking, but i have a feeling that it will end up being a place that is far away and expensive to get to.
Linus is sleeping on one of the two queensized beds. It is silly that i have a room with two queensized beds, but this is the room that they let people stay in who have pets, because pets can be messy and puke on the floor a lot, like Linus does. Linus does not like this room as much as the previous one, because the birds are not as cumberless to look at. Here, he gets a crick in his neck, so he chooses to sleep rather than look out the window. We are on the first floor, gazing out at the asphalts of Greenbrier. It is not a miraculous scene, so i go to the indoor pool and swim back and forth, in laps when i can.
I am slowly reading a book that wonders what it would be like if all of the human beings disappeared all of a sudden. Whoosh, we are gone, but all of our stuff is still laying around, cluttering the planet. The book says that everything would rot away in less than a thousand years, even megacities. Manhattan would be a forest again, and so would your house.
There would be a few evidences. Bathroom tiles, for instance. Piles of crushed bits of anything ceramic, covered in dirt and weeds.
The book says that in ten thousand years it would be a lot like we never happened at all, and perhaps the planet would even miss us just a little bit. That was heartwarming. It made me doze off, smiling on the insides, awash in melatonin. Oh, to be missed.
I am glad that it is Spring, but things have been perplexing. It's hard to enjoy life because everyone is too busy. Maybe we are trying to figure out the meaning of life, but we are too superfluous to even know what we're after. Functioning beyond the requirements, is what i mean. You and me and John the twenty-three.
--
I would like the Bruins to do something historical, tonight.