Tuesday, October 4, 2016

No Thing



Up early to go to the dentist.  I'll need a crown which means a couple hours in the chair being stuck and prodded and ground.  My dentist is a big guy with very big hands.  I was going to change dentists, but it is too late now.  I want a small female dentist with teeny-tiny hands.  It should be a requirement for admission to dental school.

As soon as I am out of the chair, I must rush to do some factory work.  Supervisory stuff.  The day before me seems a punishment.

I know I have been bitching and whining for days. . . weeks.  It is a whining without profundity, a baby's mewing, a cat's complaint.  Irritating, not illuminating.

I neither educate nor delight.  This is not literature.  This is not art.

This is no thing at all.

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