Quarter of seven.
In my mailbox this morning I found my prescription from Genoa pharmacy, so now I don’t have to pick it up in person. The post office people have been doing crazy things lately, just small unprofessional stuff, and they have an attitude about it, like refusing to deliver mail and lying about getting it done. Wtf is up with that? But the main thing going on with me is that I won’t be a masochist anymore. I think I’ve done my penance for a bad relationship that happened 23 years ago. I’ve tortured myself for long enough, so now it’s time to enjoy life once again.
Quarter of eight. The sun still struggles to gain the tree line across the street from me. The cloudy heavens are light gray where the sun doesn’t show. I’m thinking of a story by Borges, and I often resolve to read something more from him. Maybe today. Also there’s a short novel by Sturgeon I want to finish. It’s about telepathic youngsters, kind of like King’s fiction, but before he became popular. It’s interesting to trace the history of an idea to its origins. I’ve seen mixed reviews of the 40th Anniversary Moving Pictures by Rush. Mostly people didn’t like the packaging, and the liner notes precluded the lyrics in the booklet. The strong point was the Toronto concert to support the album. They say the sound quality was better than for Exit… Stage Left.
Quarter of nine. Gloria is coming at nine o’clock, and I’ve let Aesop know what is happening today so he’ll know what to expect. More gray clouds roll along the east side of the sky.
robgradens 