I made some incredible catfish and rice dish yestereve. And I have been wallowing in cashews. Completed Part Two of Masterpiece Theatre version of Jane Eyre. Such a great story. Next, I will obtain my third version from la biblioteque, weirdly starring George C. Scott, I dunno.. Must again to sleep...
Speaking of death.. I want to mention that none of us would be alive w/o death. Nevertheless, death sucks balls. It is the main thing that ages us. And ultimately kills us. As we get older, we more and more see that death does not let up, it only increases, and surrounds us. Until the deed is done, and we are the last to fall. With as much a chance of prevalence as an autumn leaf. There is no getting away from it.
Feelings can point the way to mortality. If a person gets a bum deal in life, it can depress that person such that he or she soon dies of some kind of illness. Seriously, it is a wonder that I, myself, am still alive. Well, I had a dog named Kurska. She was given to me by a person w/ FMS, who became a friend. Kurska was a very excitable Husky, and barked at people who were halfway down the block. Mainly because she felt so nervous in her new home. (What a change from the last dog, who was a lovely, calm, psychic Malamute). One day, I tried to calm Kurska and she bit me. I then punished her severely. But, after all that, she eventually became deeply endeared to me. It was just her and me, after a while. We were so close that she honestly thought she was my girlfriend. (If she were capable of washing dishes, maybe even a wife).
Well, one December, Ashley showed up. Kurska was fine with that until we started making out on the love seat. Then she barked insanely at us. She was jealous of Ashley. How confused and distraught, to be stuck as a dog. During Ashley's visit, Kurska slipped out an open gate, and disappeared. Ashley patiently went with me, driving around, looking for her.
Then, we found her at the county dog pound. Everyone there called Kurska, "Kujo," because she was so vicious there. Again, lost in a new environment. What a traumatic experience, to be captured by men with long hoops, and thrown in amongst a bunch of strange, caged dogs. When she saw me, she stopped barking, and let me pet her. We retrieved her and took her to a park on the way home. It was wonderful to have her back, and alive. (I wanted to buy another dog who was there, who sat so quietly, filled with fear. Too bad that tame dog was probably soon put to sleep).
So, Kurska had two shocking experiences in the space of a few days. Not too long after that, I saw her standing in the hallway, just gasping for breath. I took her in a cab to the vet. X-rays showed her lungs congested with something. She probably had cancer from all the cigs her former owner smoked - and I also smoked a few before I quit. I did not have the money to find out if this might have been pneumonia or something. I cried as she was put to sleep. She rather marveled at my emotion, and the tears in my eyes, and then she was gone. Hopefully, she left this world knowing that I loved her more than Ashley.
It wasn't just the cigarettes. Death is more complicated than that. Because, look at how we all live. It is forever a battle of optimism and will, against an ever-present, all-encompassing threat of death. It comes in every shape and size. In every circumstance. So, it is mainly when we give up the ghost in spirit, jumping the shark, that the angels of death rush in to take us away. We are ever order standing against omnipotent entropy. Sometimes, all it takes for the leaf to fall is a sudden chill.
Four or five days after Kurska died, I was out sadly, reluctantly mowing the vacant lot next door. A happy gaggle of kids bust on the scene, and from out of nowhere ran this big happy black dog, bounding about. He ran up to me and licked my face. The next thing I knew, he was mine. And he lives with me to this day. The other day, the cab driver called him, "The Hachi Dog."
"Hachi." A good movie about death and loyalty.
I sometimes look at the world around me, and see people saying their important things. And acting in their important ways. demanding this and that. Claiming and believing. Even killing. And I think to myself that these are all just inanimate dirt sprung up from the ground, now walking and talking and breaking things. In an instant, they will be gone again. And so, what was that all about, anyway?
A wonder-full world all the more, yes?
We're lucky if we can get out alive.
With a micron of wisdom through adversity.
As for me, this indigestion is the pits.
My stomach is an amazing and expanding universe.