I awaken to FM Top 40. Radio. I take to Sirius/XM 60's and 70's revues to begin the day on a more productive note. The tunes are like old friends, comforting like a blanket, even sometimes beckoning me to dance along with the musicians.
I dig the oldies. Ferry Cross the Mersey and such.
Carmelita and I take to the books for study and mental refreshment. She likes my vocal impression of Sancho Panza, and she giggles into a delicate hand. I quote the Bible on Facebook, while posting cribbed photos on my blog.
Upon returning alone to my rooms, I am overcome by a profound emptiness. I think of gazing into an old stone draw well, into its darkness, with a peak of reflection at the bottom in the waters, showing me my own blank, featureless expression.
You give what you get, it is said, and if that much is true, I am in for a world of disappointments.
Friedrich Nietzsche said something about gazing into the abyss and the abyss gazing back into the observer, and I take that emptiness does reflect, and even sometimes propigate, like an aggressive disease.