I just noticed that, without realizing it, I have been eating FOXY brand asparagus. How I love those slender little sexy stems that make my pee fragrant….Grrrrrrrrrr.

My day has been filled with conflict. And I am worn down, not in a good way, like a stone, but like a rope about to break. After that, the long fall down. To the depths. I guess it is to be expected when one chooses a career as a Hostage Negotiator.

No, it is not all that bad, just the unlucky convergence of many things, coupled with a missing filling that simply makes my tooth shine with pain and makes me hate the very world. Interesting too how much this stress affects my body. I feel invaded, scratchy and sore and tense. Full of vicious poison.

A good thing I must mention, though, is my new subscription to the Washington Post. It has been a long time since I have subscribed to a newspaper and I still feel a little thrill in the morning when I remember it is waiting on the porch for me, in its clear protective bag. I have little time to read it, but it is comforting to know I can, if I do find the time. I now have 1 newspaper and 4 magazine subscriptions, and to look at all them stacked together one could tell pretty quickly that I am a softy liberal. Outlaw Biker might throw people off a little, but Tricycle and Harper’s will most likely re ignite their suspicions.

Two things I remember from this past weekend’s Awareness of Death retreat: the older monk, wearing his rust-colored robes, walking slowly toward the meditation hall, farting with each step. And the complete usefulness and ubiquity of the old rhyme “If it’s yellow/Let it mellow/If it’s brown/Flush it down.” Advice, unfortunately, not everyone took–at least concerning the brown. I also realized that I do not fear death, but do have some concerns about the last little bit of life leading up to it. And I realized that I have yet to hear a believable explanation of the concept of karma that actually involves some kind of rebirth. In my mind, I might as well be a Christian and set my sights on heaven if I am going to believe in that kind of blather. That’s the my toothache talking, of course–you stupid asshole bitch motherfuckers.