Saturday 1:54 a.m.
John Muir wrote an autobiography. He invented National Parks, in America particularly. Of course, he was one of the wonderful Scottishy people and came from Dunbar, I think. Anyway, he said the Scottishy people in them days didn't lie in bed when they were sick. He remembered falling head first, passing out, into the hayricks as he was labouring away there, confounding the disease. Where did these calvinist crabbit basturns all go?
As soon as I got a little sniffle, I dropped everything. Changed my life completely. Slept for hours, watched DVDs, starting thinking about the writings. Also, still having recourse to the bliss and enjoying the vagueness of concentration.
Even diseased, I am so fortunate.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
Sorry you are under the weather. Especially since it is a nice day.
Marie; By far the best disease so far! Hotboy
I say!
With a disease, sometimes one hallucinates.
MM III
Mingin'! On one doesn't! Hotboy
Is that lisp from the beer?
PS - maybe you've got heatstroke.
Post a Comment