Cheeto Finger


My finger looks like a Cheeto. I can’t stop complaining about it, because I’m a crybaby.

I don’t have much to say about this past week – nothing particularly interesting happened, I mean to say. But I do promise to finish up and post one of the three or so half-finished blog entries. Until then my audience, here is a brief something worth reading.  One of my favorite author spoke briefly about his approach to living a good life, in the context of the fact that we are going to eventually die:

“It’s about realizing that you’re expelled from your mother’s uterus as if shot from a cannon towards a barn door studded with old nail files and rusty hooks.  It’s a matter of how you use up the intervening time in an intelligent and ironic way.  And try not to do anything nasty to your fellow creatures.” – CH

At least, I think that was the context.  He seems drunk in the YouTube clip.

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2 thoughts on “Cheeto Finger

  1. For a minute I thought this post would be an origin story of your cheeto finger, but alas, I’m still wondering exactly how this happened. Either way, I hope you recover quickly, brother.

    • I’d definitely blog about it if it had been injured in a gun battle…or while performing some other heroic thing. But it happened on the mat, as injures like these are wont to happen. And the extent to which I want to blog about explicitly personal (and, in this case, decidedly mundane) things is still unknown to me. For now, “the less, the better” is the motto.

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