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.