Friday, July 2, 2010

Project MERCATOR
This week, I declined the two social invitations I received. I am terrified* of returning to my former hermitage and with the aim of preventing that sorry fate I keep a weather eye open† for signs of backsliding into the bad old ways of the bad old days. Both of this week's refusals pass muster: one was a lucky escape and the other was a necessity. On Monday, I was invited by The Cowgirl to a screening of the film Killers; at the risk of seeming a snob, I'd rather be caught in a bear trap than see that particular motion picture. I was invited down to The Impossible Ingenue's house on Wednesday for a round of recreational shooting. I had planned to attend before I learned the time of my father's return to Bishop International Airport; it was only fair that I pick him up since my mom had dropped him off at Bishop early on Saturday morning. I would have been able to both pick him up and still make the long drive to The Ingenue's house in B.F.E. were it not for the already scheduled speech & debate team practice. I could have made any combination of two of those three activities work, it just so happened that the odd man out was the fun with firearms. Side note: I've still never fired a gun.

*Remember the wisdom of Dune, "Fear is the mindkiller." Fear has a power to rob us of our reason, and must always be checked by courage. That said, "We have nothing to fear but fear itself" is indefensible claptrap; I like the superhero Daredevil, but a "Man Without Fear" is plainly insane. Fear is essential to the survival instinct. In the words of Ben Sisko, "Nothing keeps me alert like a healthy fear of death." As with most things, fear is profitable and useful in moderation.

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? I no longer have a best friend to stand watch over my state, mental & emotional; so, though the arrangement is less than ideal, I must act as my own Argus Panoptes.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Fountains of Wayne, "'92 Subaru" from Traffic and Weather (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Lumi, a '95 Chevrolet, is fifteen years old, the same age the Mousemobile was in 2001. Holy smoke!

"This thing is a beast,
Value will only increase."

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