Someone I'm no longer friends with once proposed to me that an interesting evaluation on your current condition is to adopt the perspective that the problems, people, and situations that you were obsessed with two years ago are not probably ongoing issues.

Now, this obviously does not apply to medical conditions, but I think this is fair enough in a lot of other cases.

I am not dating the same people as two years ago, living in the same state, driving the same car, et al...

So my question that I'm proposing is not what issues from two years ago you no longer worry about, but this -

In two years' time, what do you want to be able to say that you don't have worry about anymore, that you're worried about today?

Probably the most addictive drug. Alcohol is also essentially poison, and your body is never particularly on board with getting poisoned. Prolonged use manages to ravage nearly every part of your physiology, surpassing some opiates.

So it's absolutely terribly for your body, but like I said, it's probably the most addictive drug, and for a good reason - it's one of the most accessible and visceral highs.

Her Anxiety - W. B. Yeats

Earth in beauty dressed
Awaits returning spring.
All true love must die,
Alter at the best
Into some lesser thing.
Prove that I lie.

Such body lovers have,
Such exacting breath,
That they touch or sigh.
Every touch they give,
Love is nearer death.
Prove that I lie.

But a dark and daring adaptation of the radio classic, not that Alec Baldwin ****.

Watching a live-time feed of the spread of the Zika virus online by geography... It kinda looks the way that zombie population increases look in movies. Not terrified at all.

I was actually reading something not too long ago where a bunch of scientists were talking about killing off some types of mosquitoes. Down side? We might lose chocolate. No joke.

No, but I've always been one for a bit of the old ultra-violence when done correctly.

Also, MASH was not a lighthearted show. There was that whole "chicken" episode which I still think is one of the darkest episodes in the history of television.

The hands of time beat against my chest with an uproarious fury. Wednesdays, right?

Happy and free in
the glass house, getting stoned.
No one can ever really know
you 'til you go on your own.
Your guitar to pawn, the gravel lawn.
Gentle bites and bitter yawns.
The yarn absorbs peace that I wrap 'round my neck.
And my working-class noose ties a severance check.
And my heart is broke as the clip on my pen,
except one's ****ing useless and the other's getting bent.

I vote Nova Scotia.

Time is weird here.

The lunatics are in the hall.