Rolling with the heat is a lot easier than whining about it all the time. Also, it helps keep you cool.
After doing one epic sit up on too great an angle, I find my abdomen is sore for days and I begin to reconsider my ability to achieve ‘rock hard’ abs.
Swimming underneath the ocean with goggles on is even more fun than it was when I was a kid. I keep asking myself: Can I see more, or less now?
I wear my broad-brimmed hat when I ride in the sun, sometimes. If a police officer pulls me over, I plan to tell them that I would prefer to not get burnt by the sun than wear a helmet and get burnt. I’m not sure how they would take this.
Rocking back and forth on a swing in a park makes me feel like a pendulum that should theoretically never stop.
When we ask each other, in common parlance, why we are afraid of certain things (like spiders or junkies), we don’t often realise just how deep the answer would have to be to even scrape the surface of that fear.
Often in the writing courses I have partaken in over the years, teachers and peers would refer to what it is to be a writer; what writers need to do to be defined such. I’m not so sure what I think about all this these days.
If a stapler could speak, what kind of timbre would its utterances have? What do you think it would think when you go to staple something and just mangle the staple? I can’t see it being happy about this.
When I intuit socially-conditioned shame in those I love, I feel like hugging them forever and damning the disease infesting this place. Then I remember that this is moving forward.
Book them, and they will come.