Mid afternoon

Two thirty.

I just got through playing my Fender bass. It sounds great to me. A lot of growl. How would it be with stainless steel strings? But I’m tired of practicing by myself. It is odd how I can attribute intelligence to inanimate objects. It’s a function of paranoia, I think. I’m not the only one who does that. Of course ordinary things can’t conspire against people. The old notion of ahimsa or non injury because everything has a soul is nice but dubious. I know it’s not wise to debunk religious ideas, though. More than one thinker has suggested that without God, everything is permitted. But if you put this to the test, society might punish you. In the past century, a lot of fiction was written on crime and punishment. How long is the arm of the law? Is it only enforced by people, or does nature sympathize and join in?… Jennifer is out playing with her dog again. There’s nothing for people to do in the lockdown. No sports on television. No church activities. No live entertainment. She sent up a big billow of cannabis smoke and went back indoors. I can hear a few cars on the highway and on Maxwell Road. Mostly diesel semis. They sound like the roars of prehistoric beasts or medieval dragons. If I closed my eyes and concentrated, the delusion would be real. It helps me that it’s broad daylight, but come nighttime I have to protect myself. My eyes don’t want to stay open. Time to charge batteries, of machine and human both…

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