Anon

I had a complete abdominal ultrasound today.  And a mammogram.  I wonder what they found.  I won't know for another 2 weeks.  14 days.  336 hours.  20,160 minutes.  1,209,600 seconds. I wonder how many seconds I have left.

I just had a weird memory. Many years ago I took a philosophy class that met in the same Manhattan building as the Iraqi embassy.  I'll never forget arriving late in a rainstorm.  I burst into the little lobby soaking wet, hair dripping all over the marble floor, and almost ran over a guy whom I later realized was Tariq Aziz, Iraq's former Deputy Prime Minister who's now in prison in Baghdad.  He was very tall.  And surprised. I don't know why I thought of that just now.

"Mother died today.  Or, maybe, yesterday;  I can't be sure."  The original?  "Aujourd'hui, maman est morte. Ou peut-être hier, je ne sais pas."  From Camus' The Stranger. The French title, L’Étranger, can be translated as:   overseas, stranger, outsider, foreign, alien.  Or:  extraneous, unconnected, unknown, or irrelevant. Will I be the Mother who dies?  Will I die irrelevant, unconnected, extraneous?

By the way, I think I am going to die soon.  More on that later.

Is the Tea Party Movement like a flock of birds?  How do they stay together?  How do they follow a coherent vision?  There's no singular leader, but somehow all the members know what the group, if you can call it that, believes in. Note to self:  Don't google how a flock of birds flies together.  All you'll get back are links to sites which talk about airplane flights from hell.

This is so weird, to write what someone will read.  Momma always said never to commit opinions to paper.  I guess that advice goes for the cyberether, too.  We'll see how firmly I adhere to Momma's advice.