~On Saturday, it stinks to be sick. It stinks a bit more to be sick when the weather is so nice. But, it's an excuse to sit at home and stare at the blue sky and listen to the city noises. And then I don't feel any different than when I was 16. What was I thinking about? Was I just wondering what life would bring? I guess now I can't wonder for too long without deciding that this is it. The package has arrived. But I can still take the pose of one who is deeply wistful.
~But, later I get bored of pondering, bored of being sick even, and so call a friend, go to a bar, run into some colleagues there, and exchange indignation about moments of work and city living until we all have a good laugh and nothing is changed but the mood.
~And, now it's Sunday, so I start again. I will take a book and my coffee to the park and lose myself in fictional concerns.
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