Imbolc Valentine Moon
Put together a plan. I’m going to rest until the pain subsides and while it subsides I’m going to take nsaids and do some gentle exercises. With a plan I don’t feel creaky; I feel proactive. Knocking back the pain reduces the aversive conditioning, resting helps the injury heal as do the anti-inflammatories. The gentle exercises keep the stiffness down and promote flexibility. There.
So many deaths recently. Shirley Temple. Sid Caesar. Seymour Hoffman. Maximilian Schell. Which of course is a nonsense statement. So many deaths always. What it means is so many deaths of people of whom I had awareness. I remember Shirley Temple as Heidi, but I remember not her specifically from that film but her grandfather. Sid Caesar I remember from television’s live black and white days, another generational divide I’d not realized I belonged on one side of. Seymour Hoffman I remember in so many roles, always in the complexity of the character, often a character of ambiguous morality. Maximilian Schell, not for any movie, but for a square jawed Teutonic presence.
These are the generation ahead of me, with the exception of Hoffman, and as such are, in a sense, my parent’s generation though they’re younger than my parents would have been. What I mean is that I can still distance myself from them by saying, oh, was he still alive? But that gambit won’t work much longer. Soon, I’ll say. Oh, yes. Of my generation.
Just noticed the segue here. Probably not coincidental.
