800 milligrams of ibuprofen 4 times a day numbs my brain, but I feel like I have to do something to get the inflammation settled down so my joints won't hurt so bad when I type or play the piano scales. This numbing makes it practically impossible to write in a creative manner. What a drag, man.
It's cloudy outside, and the humidity is so thick that I can feel the heat of my body interacting with it as it touches my skin on my bare shoulders. It even penetrates the hair I got left on my head and on my chest. The heat of my body seems to burn it off as it contacts it, and so there is this constant buzzy feeling where that event is taking place.
Yesterday was the first day I haven't practiced the major and minor scales on my digital keyboard for a good while. Maybe a month or more. I guess i could dig out the receipt for the keyboard to find out the exact period, but that's not very important now. I owe it to myself to stop practicing for a while to see if that helps.
I don't seem as concerned about how the pain is affecting my typing. I've written about all I got to say, and in doing that I have realized just how much more of a fool I am is than I could have previously imagined.
It's easy for me to say that I don't believe I've been intentionally cruel to the people I've encountered in life, but in reflection I'd have to admit that some of the attitudes I've taken toward the other could have easily been interpreted in a way that makes it seem like I intended to be cruel. Sometime, it's just life itself on a small planet that makes life appear cruel, no matter how often I try to be considerate.
I saw this gadget on one of the web sites I visit that has fascinated me since. It was revealed as a spitball device intended for being naughty in classrooms, but i thought it was very clever. It consisted of a piece of stainless steel that fit in the the web of the hand between the thumb and index finger, and had rubber bands hooked up to this piece to use it like a slingshot.
It seemed like just what I need to discourage the squirrels from clambering all over my wooden house. I don't wanna wound them so that they become vulnerable to their predators, just convince them they need to find another place to play.
Yesterday I was at the SuperCenter and saw the various kinds of BBs they have for sale now. The ones that interest me are the colorful plastic ones. I have never imagined that. Plastic BBs, who woulda thunk it?
I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
