No, this is not a Naropa Coursepage Report
Dick Proenneke never once got sick in his 35 years at Twin Lakes, Alaska
I think Dick would've been a huge Twitter user
Our bodies speak to us in an ancient tongue that is at once primitive yet gravid with complex meaning.
If they need food or drink, they remind us in tones of subtle urgency, coding their message with the deep pigments of the self. And if they should become injured, they let us know through the soul-crushing, wolverine jaws of gnawing pain. So beautiful, so transcendental.
As the holy texts of the Shama Dai Tsin tell us, listen closely and you can hear the blood cells coursing through your veins. Sometimes they tailgate. Sometimes they swerve to avoid some gross, gunky thing that's right in the middle of the Goddamn road! And sometimes they just stop. Oops.
Frankly, I think it's a stupid system.
That's why today I pointed a short-barrel .357 at my gimpy left knee and said "Four Mile Canyon, gizzardlicker, and no, you're not entitled to a phone call."
Hmmm... Now I'm wondering if someone might come help me to the elevator later today at quittin' time. I can barely move.
PS, Back on wheels Monday, right Steve?