Lucky Not Clever

Eight thirty five.

The sun comes blasting through in the east, above the tree line. I wished for this yesterday. It could be an auspicious sign. But no, only in my mind– which is everything. There’s no sympathy, no correspondence between nature and the mind, but the mind projects meaning onto the world. Whatever comes, accept it and act accordingly. The sunshine is as good as a Coke for a smile. It’s an oasis in the winter desert. Looking back, I was definitely schizophrenic in high school before I started drinking. My mood was always depressed, down and gloomy. Now, the sky is metallic blue… In a half hour I will go to the store for foodstuffs and a Coke. Probably Bill the psychologist was wrong about my genius IQ. Intelligence is not the issue with me, nor with anyone. Why exalt one person over another on the basis of their intelligence? Elitism is wrongheaded. We do what we can with what we are given. If we fall short, we’re still doing the best we can. There’s a mourning dove out back, cooing like the hooting of an owl. The sun grows stronger. Just a few minutes. It’s cold outside: 38 degrees.

Ten o’clock. Aesop just had his breakfast. Vicki told me her whole body is in pain. She’s going to try acupuncture for it. She can’t afford an MRI to determine the cause of the pain. She refused medication. What is Vicki going to do? It’s one of those times when I feel lucky for what I have. Not clever, either. Just fortunate. Aesop heard a car arrive next door. Nothing to do with us. I saw the mail carrier on my street on a Sunday; interesting. The refrigerator purrs along, a souvenir of the disaster that occurred almost a year ago. I’ve been given a second chance: what will I do with it?

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