VIP

 As I entered Starbucks this morning, the employees rushed to "my" table ahead of me to clear it off, clean the surface, and then to switch out the chair that was there for the chair that I prefer. Now that's what I call VIP service! 

It would be nice if I could actually do something to kind of honor their efforts, such as write something worthwhile here, but my head is quite empty, and has been for some time now. A sort of oppressive apathy lies upon me, mostly having to do with the morning news I habitually watch, which has become more blatantly absurd than alarming these days. I have decided, really, that it is better replaced either by old episodes of The Big Bang Theory or by classical music through earphones. This morning's selection was Also Sprach Zarathustra, by Richard Strauss--a piece that starts out with a heart-filled bang and then settles into gentle reverie.

So that's my plan, I think--to simply turn my back on the bullshit, on the American carnage embodied in our super spreader president, to return to the fine and precious things and thus revisit the universe of who we are at our best rather than simmer in the disease process of who we are at present.