Today is a bad day. I am listening to depressing music and making myself feel worse. What the Hell? Of late, it has been my habit to reinforce bad moods rather than to try and fix them. I'm losing some ground here somewhere but I can't figure out why or how. Days when I don't get out of bed are the worst. I hate that half-doze filled with dreams I don't want to have. There's always bad temptations out there I don't want - that "come to the dark side" whisper and the almost as disturbing "there's no difference" denial. I feel like I've been reading Aliester Crowley and H.P. Lovecraft while sipping absinthe. That, by the way, I do not recommend.
A number of things have been moving at speed of late while others are stalled completely. I suppose that's normal enough, but they don't seem to be the right things in each category. Health care changes are screaming past at an unseemly rate that prevents me managing what is going on. The parts of my life that usually move quickly and relatively easily, my day-to-day activities and responsibilities, have lagged almost to a stop resulting in considerable unhappiness in those around me.
I've been spending a bit of time outside despite the recent heat. Jirel and I have been taking walks. It is actually a bit depressing. I feel like I'm saying goodbye to things I can still see. But Jirel is quite happy she doesn't get out enough and likes that fact that there seems to be a different dog or cat or squirrel or chipmunk scent in every yard. To my surprise the neighborhood is fairly lush. We have had a good bit of rain and the 100°F temperatures haven't been able to stunt the flowers. I actually found what I believe to be a lush spray of Edelweiss growing on and around a boulder in a yard about a block away. It must be tended quite carefully, as it doesn't handle these climate conditions well. It is my favorite flower, I think. The picture is just off the web, I didn't and don't plan to carry a camera on my walks. You should be awarded a third arm and hand when they give you a white cane.
On the home front, one of my immortal aunts seems to be on her last legs. There's really no shortage of them, but I will miss her very much. She is one of the few I've really had a relationship with. It is odd to me that the women of my mother's side seem to live past 100 and the men of my father's side rarely pass 50 (me and my father in the last 16 generations).
I will make efforts at neither poetry nor prose today. I'm just not in the mood. I remember a time when like Jubal Harshaw I had to write to avoid spiritual constipation. It may be a function of my inability to draw forth words with which I should be familiar. Oddly enough, German words come to me easily. Perhaps I'm reverting to my childhood? Today I remembered a joke about a German word. It was inspired by the German WOTD from the lookwayup dictionary.
An American, a Spaniard, and a German were sitting on a park bench. As so often happens, they began to argue the merits of their own languages. The American contended that English could be beautiful and descriptive... take "butterfly". If floats. It flutters. It sounds precisely like the creature it describes. The Spaniard took some exception, advocating "Mariposa" as a much more beautiful word. "Maripoooosa", said he extending the vowels and adding a lilting quality to the word. It is beautiful, it floats, it is soft, it is utterly descriptive of the creature. The German turned a bleary eye on his two companions and simply asked "Somesing ist wrong mit Schmetterling?"
German is rarely a beautiful language. To much saliva being shared. It is probably a precursor of Klingon.