'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,

off Monday, with television

I might have been asking for a sick headache day, overdoing it with the yardwork yesterday. Dunno. Got one, anyway. Didn't go to work, though I got as far as driving part way there. Tried to assure scrawlspace I wasn't just playing hookey to see Brooooce in Ypsi this afternoon.

Here's the guy Springsteen thinks should be President:

[cool joe obama]

That's a lot of cool, Brooooce and that guy in shades, springing into action in the suit. But that's no reason not to vote for him. Haha.

'Long about 4:00 Saturday afternoon, I got cable TV. That may be why I worked so hard in the yard yesterday. I can connect those two ideas in more ways than one, which is itself not unrelated to how I could tell you at least a dozen scary things about getting cable.

Cable ---it's crazy, but it's true--- cable TV has connections in my mind to more anxieties than I even knew I had. Thus getting it, or even getting ready to get it, stirs fears, presenting me with a challenge to confront them. I haven't yet had conversation with myself about it in concrete, brass-tacks, written-down, get-to-the-bottom-of-it ways, but I've been having the conversation below the surface ongoingly, for several days. It's simmering. And I don't wanna go ostrich on this one. But first I'm going with experiencing the scariness and just, like, watching it. Since, as the poet said, feeling is first. Don't wanna squash it with snap-to-it analysis that might itself be rushing in fear to stamp it out before I get too good a look at it.

What's on the cable TV, of course, provides plenty of other fodder to cogitate on, lest I be freaking out too very. For instance, this afternoon I saw the second half of the Ayn Rand "master"piece, The Fountainhead. The philosophy's a crock, and the art of that movie is even more of one, but it was absorbing to look at. Then I saw an episode of "Password Plus" (late 70s?). I also caught part of Paris Hilton's pseudo-reality show search for a new BFF.

So far, so good. But it's mostly not short-term stuff that's frightening about rejoining this world.

Guess I'll trudge on out and bring in my trash can & peripherals before seeing about supper. I filled two compost carts yesterday, mine and Bert's. I really got t' goin'. More often than not, the thought of working in the yard is a real drag. More often than not, working in the yard is something else. Not a drag. Something else.

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