Wednesday evening for Thursday morning
Noticing, what? a mental dullness; maybe it has to do with whether I get up early and alert for my thinking Time, with a magic mug of hot & black Club coffee. It didn't happen Wednesday, up too late to do basic thinking that underlies writing even my nonsense. I wanted to write, but the mind wasn't there for it, and adding to it is a bothersome onset of imbalance even when sitting. Even when idly and lazily scrolling down and thumbing through endless and valueless short videos on Facebook.
Like, get a life, man, nomesane?
A stack of stuff is here waiting to be read. Several books, Atlantic and New Yorker magazines are piling up. Smithsonian, I didn't even realize we subscribe to Smithsonian; speaking of, a crushing despair sets in about vile political machinations and I wonder whether it's just human nature, that every age of human civilization brings its own causes for hopelessness about the future of mankind, nation, world itself. At some point, I try to shift my thinking to irrelevancies, thus the video absurdities on Facebook.
Facebook itself. It's a disease, but also an escape from the constant bad news. Nothing will stop the senseless madness in America, in Israel Palestine. For all their political wickedness, the Israeli mindset toward the Palestinians is little to no different from our total lack of compassion for Germans and Japanese during WW2: they tried to destroy us and we wanted them gone; October 7 and Israelis want Gazans gone. On the European front, the only thing that will stop Putin is pressing the nuclear buttons before he can press his; is it Time?
Time to destroy the earth in order to save it? We humans are already doing that. The next mass extinction event is already running on the clock. Genesis 6:5f comes round from Time to Time and we are there.
Where can I go? I can buy that Buick Roadmaster and hit the road, drive.
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Promise to self kept Wednesday. It wasn't crowded either, busy and people coming and going, but not crowded. Already building, and pushed over the top by two friends who posted about oysters and soft-shell crab at Gene's, we went to Gene's Oyster Bar at noon on Wednesday.
I had a dozen raw half-shell oysters, cold, salty ones from Carrabelle, a more succulent oyster I have never eaten, and the shucker gave me a baker's dozen, thirteen. Followed by a basket containing one fried mullet with its two side fillets and the backbone (chewing off the hot, crispy tail and then all the meat on the backbone is the piece de resistance), a dozen fried oysters, and one fried soft-shell crab. Ice water.
Linda had a fried mullet basket: two whole fried mullet: four side fillets and two backbones, a side of fried okra and a side of coleslaw. Part of my blessing in this marriage is that Linda never eats the fried mullet backbone, the tails were crispy and salty, and the bones were loaded with meat.
We left with a treat for a dearest lifelong friend and dropped it by the friend's house along with a short visit. Well I say "lifelong," both born in 1935, Cove School and Bay High classmates, here in 2025 we are both at age 90 and have been friends for 83 years now.
Blessings, Robert!
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A car nut from ancient age, my lifelong favorite car was/is Buick. There's the 1948 Buick Super sedan that I was hoping for when my father decided to buy a 1948 Dodge instead (both holdover models from before WW2). At least the Dodge did have a Fluid-Drive transmission, the year before Buick made Dynaflow an option on the Super and Special. And there's the 1990s Buick Roadmaster that I may someday forgive myself for never buying, but we were living in Apalachicola and I was buying Fords after making fast friends with Richard the Ford Mercury dealer.
For all my cars, and all the mullet and oysters I have eaten, ...
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When I was seventeen, it was a very good year, and I thought it would never end. Coming up on ninety years of age I know nothing except that life itself is a gift and Time is all we have.
RSF&PTL, eh?
T89&c