As introduced here, these Warm Recollections are random cullings from thirty years of notes files…
Just then an infinite number of Japanese tourists crossed the road.
Being a smoker today is like dealing with an indelible tattoo you got when you were sixteen: like the highly-visible name of band which not only disappeared without trace soon afterwards but the lead singer turned out to be a rampant pedophile. You wear long-sleeve sweaters for the rest of your life, trying to cover the mark, but it’s still there.
A sense of direction is a massive blessing. Especially if you drink a lot in bars in cities where you only arrived that morning.
The man whose flying ritual on take-off and landing includes closing his eyes and picturing, feeling in his heart and mind, the essence of those he loves — including his pets. So absorbed in this process that he did not realize the plane had already crashed, and he was dead. A good system!
Emotions, those semi-wild animals that live with you in the house of your mind. You don't expect to be able to control a cat. Same with emotions. Sometimes they'll sit in your lap and purr. Other days they'll go tearing around the house, scratching up the furniture, and then bite you. Why? Nobody knows.
Watch them run, wait for them to calm down. Tomorrow’s another day.
As always, if you can think of anyone who might enjoy this Substack, please spread the word.
That's a great metaphor for emotions.
I quit smoking 25ish years ago, but I never really kicked the desire. I wonder sometimes at what age I can take it back up because I'm close enough to dying anyway.
Giving up smoking is the hardest thing you’ll ever do. I’ve given up 8 years ago because I couldn’t afford it anymore. Took 2 courses of medication (3 months) and a million tantrums.
I believe I was a cat in a previous life.