meaningless world

I dreamed I was with a beautiful women. Her skin was ivory. Her breast rode high. We were young. In that special place of magic and wonder. I had seen her naked and hoped that I might again. She wanted to see a movie. ‘Because we’re at this end of town, we should see meaningless world. It should be playing here.’ I agreed though I’d thought to see a different movie playing at the other end of town. At the ticket booth of the old theatre I said, ‘we’d like to see meaningless world and the older woman in a white blouse  said ‘yes, that’s playing and gave us two tickets.

I woke the. The wind was lifting the awning so I got up and let it in. I’d had difficulty peeing the night before. I’d a mild inflammation and worried about being able to pee. I peed with an initial sharp pain but emptied my bladder thankfully. I’d heard two women telling me they had difficulty peeing since their surgery. There was a tinge of pink on the tissue. I felt relieved. 

Last evening I’d read that Tosher had written, ‘Young people seem to think you can except Christ without renouncing the world.” I’d thought about that at sin. There is the strongest tendency to accept one’s own pleasures but renounce those of others. I do like chocolate There’s  the case for venal sin. The deadly sins are pride, envy, anger, gluttony, sloth, avarice, lust.  The lawyers of the church with their pride and intellectualism are forever hair splitting like accountants working for you to find loopholes to lessen the overwhelming burden of taxes.

I imagine aging that perhaps life could be a vacation. This place of toil and beauty might just be a world of wonder which we resist for fear of becoming lost in the rabbit holes of sin. 

What if we have said no to chocolate or lust or sloth and avarice and missed the very deliciousness of sin. This world is sin. Sin is missing the mark in archers lanfuage. I’m aiming for a higher target and the arrow strikes elsewhere. There is such absurdity in life. 

Something as tiny as a virus or a bruise can cause pain and interfere with elimination. Too much cheese and a person might suffer contemplation.

‘Everything in moderation,” says the ancient physician, 

But it is with pain I know I am alive, she says, planning another child, with glee and wickedness. Meanwhile  old men clay games of chess and talk. The ladies make a pot of tea and consider having biscuits.

How did you choose to be an anal surgeon? I asked. 

I saw the relief it gave. He said. We were washing our hands again and again in the ancient ritual. I still get thank you cards from patients who’d not been able to go and I restored that function.

I reflected on the way I restored the flow. My psychic surgical work,, the rabbit holes and the tinge of pink. 

I think I’ll have another chocolate I said with no shame but just a little decadent delicious venal guilt.