Definitely not. There are – literally – robots on the streets where I am today. There were cows on the streets where I was a year ago.
I don’t find picturing the future to be a productive endeavor. A year from now the robot wave will have hit Bangalore and cattle in the streets may be a fixture of Atlanta (because raising one’s own cow will be the only way to afford beef.) [Not to mention, there’s a significant chance that I’ll be in neither of those places.]
Shopping for crazy. I’ve become aware that – during some time periods, it’s mandated that there be one bat-shit insane person per subway car — and that, if there are more than that, they need to spread out evenly and give the stage to one among them — a Car Crazy Champion, if you will. After riding in a car with a urine-drenched crack addict who paced the length of the car eating (and sloshing) some pungent food from a Styrofoam container, I realized I should have been in the next car with the very nicely dressed and clean-cut man in what seemed to be a self-created and self-imposed uniform reading aloud from the Bible. I no longer concern myself with what car gets me closest to the appropriate exit, rather I shop around for the least objectionable crazy.
As many of the ones that aren’t war-torn or underwater as I possibly can.
Today is the first day of the rest of this week.
Sure, I just saw a bird fly past my window, and I’m fairly certain that it wasn’t domesticated.
1.) Remaining incognito. (I conceal my identity by being no one of interest.)
2.) Calling animals. (They do not come, but I maintain that I'm effective at getting their attention. They give perplexed looks and seem to be thinking, "Why is that dumb-ass human making strange noises?")
3.) Slipping on ice. (It's effortless to me.)
4.) Conveying an air of indifference. (At any given moment, you'd probably conclude that I don't give a shit.)
5.) Eating rotisserie chicken. (It's not pleasant to watch, but I leave not a scrap of meat. It's like a sun-bleached skeleton when I'm done with it.)
Morning. Whether I want to be or not.
A Jetpack and Rollerblades.
Whether or not to watch Sophie’s Choice. Because it might diminish the difficulty of all future choices.
I assume just a little more of all the things I already do, with a substantial amount of that time being spent in rest.
The thought, “If I didn’t have to rest I could do so much more” is one of modern life’s most cancerous modes of thinking.
Didn’t we all learn during the pandemic that when commutes and other travel / in-person time obligations go away, life fluidly swells to fill the void. Like having to learn Zoom, etc.
Life gives no free lunches, learn to live with it.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 