monday’s are so bleh, seemingly impervious to preparations to make it an otherwise perfect one.
I didn’t get much time to do anything I wanted to over the weekend, from hitting the gym to a haircut. Guess it’ll have to wait til later. I’m so not a morning person how much more than monday mornings, even less of a non morning person. That almost makes sense.
I run stoops early in the morning several laps pretty soon he’ll need his own fitbit, no longer working out of home but have to commute across the city in the west loop area (they generically call everything “loop” in Chitown). I see dead frogs lying across the main path, but contrasting this grisly scene is the flowery fragrance of the wild flowers growing in this eco park. They even have little snakes, crayfish coming out of this lagoon, kinda kookie since we’re in the city and not some sort of outdoor zoo, but in a very cool way. Shows our requirement for nature even on a smaller scale and the good it could do for our psyche’s.
Most weekends this park gets overrun by obnoxious little league takeovers, they come and trash it and then leave like they graced it with their presence. Seems to be the norm in the city, a regular thing for families to come together and get their children into something other than video gaming and being indoor recluses. I always detested sports, its such a showy contest of win/lose, a dated and passé paradigm that predominantly caucasians still adhere to religiously. In a very real sense competitive sports is religion. If you’re a creative and imaginative being you just don’t see the point since nothing is created from all of the energies, no tangible proof in the end result. You only proved that you can spend, but there’s no evidence of the spending and thus no ROI. When art or poems get made, they tell the viewer or the critic alike that this was made with intellect and with skill, with thoughtful purpose and there’s something profound and beautiful in it, despite the level of mastery in the making of these works.
The sun feels good, the heat does as well. I sleep deeply after a hard days work, beautifully and warmly. I felt like I could write vividly about a hundred different things right now but zeroing in and focus on one was a challenging pain point. It’s not a matter of what others wanted to read, but what I wanted to say. And I wrote from the angle of having something worthy of being said and read, something positive and pleasurable but not hurtful, damaging, or overly critical. Nor do I write in the sense that I’m all that and a bag of chips, somebody whose leading a rock and roll lifestyle and gets out of bed looking like a CK male model (though I have in the past I must admit). In a very real sense I’m very real, unpretentiously pretentious, deeply shallow, tangible, accessible, not so much out there but not so much here in the now. I’ve an old soul, I remember things…the way we once were, the times before the internets and when people were once normal and far more lovely.
I’m not here to monetize and to be liked, followed, beloved.…yet if these things occur so be it, but I don’t live for that. It’s unimportant really, validation is overrated particularly by strangers who are wayward and variable.