meditations on sunday

i have at least three mosquito bites, all acquired in the past twenty-four hours.

this afternoon while i was reading outside the pub a squirrel climbed up onto one of the outside tables to eat an apple core someone had left. i stopped reading and watched transfixed, like a child.

today there was a girl wearing only a sarong - as a tube-dress - and sandals.

i saw a girl meditating in a field (yup) and i thought, "your neck isn't properly aligned! it's throwing your spine out of whack! that's not restful and it won't help your prana." but i didn't want to disturb her or correct her form lest she be, you know, some seven-year yogi who studied in tibet.

sometimes i walk like i'm a sheriff in a western, about to smoke out the bad guys.

sometimes i approach life like i'm a warrior. but it's really the only way i know how. i only know how to attack, and, once rebuffed, attack again.

i miss my powers of seduction. i don't know where they went. i miss them greatly.