I want to be a mail man, or a buddhist monk.
I am at my very best driving and listening to the radio, or walking around doing shit like going to the bank (when I'm making a deposit). Sweeping the floor. Taking the dogs out. I worry very little in these moments. The sea of troubles is kind of off somewhere in the distance during those times.
Sitting down sucks. Computers suck. Can I at least use a typewriter? Fuck this! Couldn't I have been born an ancient Chinese scholar who only writes with a brush, if I have to write? House husband or early-retired person would also work.
Right now, though, I'm planted in front of this hot piece of plastic agonizing over the right words for shit that bores me. I'm going to try to adopt the same mindset. Mindfulness. Any moment is as good as any other. Feeling my fingers on the smooth keys. Ignoring the tendinitis. Casting off the sickly glare of this little fucking screen. Shit. It's not working. Neither am I.
Minutia - I've not moved. I kind of want to, but every time I think of some super clever and unique name for a new blog, I check and find out it's not unique at all....