We Are Spring

Originally Posted Monday, March 10, 2014

I'll write this late afternoon as I know I will not have time tomorrow, needing to be, as I do, at the orthopod's office at 8:00 a.m. which in real time will be 7 fucking a.m. in the morning.  I have exercised my legs, however, and have continued to gently stretch and it may just be that it is a tad bit better.  I will explain to the orthopod that I am not necessarily there for surgery.  I just want to get better.  My saying, however, will make little difference.  It is my deciding that will. 

I must have had something yesterday and most of this morning.  I felt like poop and was depressed on top, but after a good workout at the gym, I am feeling as chipper as I have for days.  Mother will be here in half an hour for a good spaghetti dinner while the sun is out and the air is as perfect as the light. We will dine outdoors.  And. . . oh, we will be something. 

I bought tulips at the grocer's, cut them, and put them in. . . all I had was tonic water.  I hope that is what they like. 

While I was feeling sick and blue today, I decided to sit at the computer and try to find some new techniques for working on my images. Here is one (that I can see right now is slightly off) of the experiments. It is nothing I will do regularly, but I must have learned something in the making.  My pretty little 'yentle.  She was pleased, she said. 

My college roommate is out of the hospital.  Tests tell him he is fine, so the dee arrs put him on more meds. . . just to be safe.  I want to tell him to quit it and take his chances, but I can't do anything like that, so I tell him what people say in such circumstances.  I ask if there is anything I can do. 

It is gloriously beautiful while I write.  I want to do something.  I want to do something bad.  I want to do something bad.  It is spring break and bike week and who knows what all here.  Badness is everywhere.  It abounds.  It is the call of life, this Spring.  We are Bacchanalian, we are Dionysian.  We are the sap that rises and the creeks that begin to flow.  We are in bloom.  We are nature.