The blog has been unusually quiet. The stress of modern living and having parents from planet psyco have given more than my dose of despair this past week which in turn hastened to mature into a room-spinning, venom spewing migraine.
Hence The Monster was miserably out of commission with an ice pack for company.
To be honest, Numb is good.
Numb = Not thinking = Not giving a toss
But what an irresponsible attitude.
One can always depend on ailment to bring to fore awareness of one's own mortality.
Would we do things differently if we knew we were to die in say, a month's time? Stupid question.
Of course we would.
There would be no question about it.
In between acquainting the jackass boss with one’s left hook, to shagging the shy grocery store clerk, I would imagine the pandemonium would reveal much more about us than all history books and psychology courses combine. A cataclysmic upheaval spawned by a thousand innate desires released from a lifetime of self denial and responsible rationalization. The forbidden is always so delicious. Isn’t being civilized a matter of keeping all our primal impulses in check or at least very well hidden.
(But I am all for the comforts of civilization. I am forever thankful for indoor plumbing.)
But I do know one thing for sure. If the world would end, Ben and Jerry’s and I would become inseparable. And oh, I would get a dog too.