Why Does the Sun Go On Shining? September 28, 2011Posted by Mark Folse in cryptic envelopment, New Orleans, Odds&Sods, The Narrative, Toulouse Street.
If you have found this blog occasionally depressing lately well you are probably not the only one. Thanks for all the “are you OK?” emails and, yes, fine. Thanks. I do sometimes spill my soul in unseemly fashion and I have what a licensed therapist called a “melancholic temperament”. Who knew the humors were still a part of modern medicine? (Scans office shelves for jars marked “Leeches”). He is licensed to dispense with all sorts of troubles so he must know what he’s talking about, right?
Then again, consider that day some years back as I was hanging from the crumbling edge of a work project precipice, staring into the toothy maw of Ophuk, the demonic opposite of Ganesha, kind god of great undertakings. Our leader, a teacher of yoga and Unitarian minister, took one look at our long dog faces and asked us each for a statement of personal affirmation to get us back on track. It came my turn, and without binking I offered this: today is a good day to die. And I smiled.
Remember, it’s always darkest just after the 5,000 ton counterweight falls off the drawing desk of Terry Gilliam and hurtles toward your sad, coyote ass like that light at the end of the tunnel madly whistling in clouds of steam to get you off the tracks.
Which takes us to today’s lesson, taken from Micheal Stipe’s Epistle to the Athenians. No. Wait. Stop. If your neighbors aren’t pounding on the wall before the end of this you’re not doing it right. Turn it up and try again.
There. Doesn’t that fell better? PRN q.s. ad. lib.