Between making sure the mail that gets in the box is the right mail, dealing with parcels and small packages and rolls, reading the addresses on the envelopes and magazines, and a dozen other tasks, it’s not a job that allows a great deal of contemplation or lends itself to a great deal of creative thought.
Leave a CommentMonth: January 2020
The attending team at the urgent care facility in south Overland Park whisked me out of the facility as soon as they saw my complaint. My calf was swollen, red, hot, and painful. I could hardly walk. The doctor suspected deep-vein thrombosis, a life-threatening condition if the clot they thought was in my lower leg broke free and traveled to the heart or lungs.
One CommentOn days like this, my thoughts turn to the hydrogen bomb. My mind doesn’t linger on the holocaust the use of such weapons would mean. Instead, I’m thinking of it as a kind of motivational tool, a fatalist’s lament over the way the world works. The bomb is there. It’s rusting away in its silo, connected to an obsolete set of computer controls. There are madmen about who believe the bomb adds to their cumulative power. I don’t know that I’ve stopped worrying about the bomb but I know that I’ve come to love it.
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