The days are turning cool and we sleep better. Judy and I took the dogs to the beach where they love running in circles as if herding sheep.
We bought some clearance cherry liqueur chocolates left over from Easter. There is no end to our suffering. I still play bridge and I am not sick of it yet. I’m doing indoor bowling but we are on a losing streak. My film script is moving towards completion but I have to spend a few nights typing it all up. My cancer seems to have stopped killing me for now and that should be good, except I don’t trust it.
Otherwise life is perfect. I live in my scripts, shooting and chasing people all through Cradle Mountain and then at night to sleep peacefully while dreaming of pleasant things that will never happen and the next day we’re chasing imaginary villains up and down mountains - how could life be better?
On Being II
Our lives are drawn towards a central core
To reproduce a substance into life
And here to form and open up a door,
The first beginning of that human hive. 4
We congregate and mingle and we make;
Constructing structures that sustain the cell
To reproduce from blueprints in its wake
And stimulate to feed and know and tell. 8
Yet soon enough the wheel grinds to a halt
So that the substance must be dissipated
Where Being and its essence may be culled,
Decayed into its parts, disintegrated. 12
But other templates rise to build these blocks
To make a different substance from these stocks.
© Joe Lake
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