I keep coming back to this song

I keep coming back to this song Cool Cool River by Paul Simon.

Who says: Hard times?
I'm used to them
The speeding planet burns
I'm used to that
My life's so common it disappears
And sometimes even music
Cannot substitute for tears

You can read the full lyrics here. Go—read. It’s worth it and I’ll be here when you get back.

I was complaining, to Ten, about how dull my life is, especially after falling three times in one week. I figure I’m boring the hell outta him. Still, I gotta take it easy—heal and shit. I am but this life is less than exhilarating.

My usual day? I read in this chair for a couple hours, read in another for awhile, read in bed for a couple more and nap. On a big day, with my three awesome spotters on the job—Jen, Ten and Oni—I shamble next door to watch teevee.

My life's so common it disappears

Given my current state of being, I’d think that my empath abilities would extend to the unvaxxed amongst us. Eh, not so much.

A radiation oncologist in Florida says his hospital is so overwhelmed with COVID patients that he was forced to turn away a cancer patient who needed to be transferred there — something he has never had to do in 60 years of treating patients. (source)

As of August 10th, 95% (Yes, you read that right. 95% ) of people hospitalized for the plague are unvaccinated. If they’d been jabbed, they wouldn’t be taking up beds and care that others—cancer, Nf2 and such other patients need. These barely sentient, beyond selfish, vaccine shunning imbeciles hold the bag for so damn many unnecessary deaths. I don’t rejoice in the horse dewormer ingesting people's deaths but I sure as fuck don’t shed any tears.

Yeah, in my state of Goldilocksness, where it seems I’m able to do too much exercising or not enough and rarely hit just right, I’m reading the news way too much. At least I’ve quit reading the opinion columns and blogs. I wanna know what is happening versus what might happen. I have enough of a bleak imagination as it is.

Ya know what I’d like? To drive up to Portland, Maine with Ten, take a boat over to St. John’s and then a slow meander home up through Newfoundland and Labrador, down through New Brunswick and Maine. Ten could tell me all about the geologic history of the areas as we pass through.

Yeah, not think about death, our overabundance of dimwits (some of whom I’m, sadly, related to) and my struggle to walk again. I like the way that sounds.