Perchance to Relax ... ?

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The one thing good about Alex not being here is that I can concentrate on trying to dig myself out of monetary damnation (I’d rather not lose the modern convenience called electricity of the web connection that allows me to type away here: not to mention food, water and shelter).

Without fatiguing you with the details I’m working from arising to falling asleep. My capacity for focusing is fading. I need to consecrate time to relaxing, refreshing myself the better to enable me to pursue my projects.

To merely be able to enjoy - to tolerate - the act of being conscious. Right now from toe to head I feel like some cornucopia of malignancies like you might find on a page of the Anatomy of Melancholy.

Pity there’s no unread P.G. Wodehouse, Tom Sharpe or kindred giver of laughter that I’ve not read. That doesn’t quite read right. Rather something that I haven’t read that would combine my audible amusement with a lively electrical jolt that would awaken my seemingly numb nervous system.

I’m sure there are many I’ve never discovered. Probably some in this disorderly shanty that is my home.

Anyway, I’m going to try to relax. Sometimes that gift eludes me. But I’ll give it a shot.

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Perchance to Relax ... ?
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