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Wouldn't it be funny if I took a pill that didn't agree with me and I fell in love with England, again?

I wonder how many people I'll confuse today. I love to confuse people. It's my hobby.

I feel as though I'm surrounded by a 60s whirlwind of youth.

I suspect that sandwich I ate might be past it's due and now I might be having symptoms.

... Or not. And this is just another of those 'what now?!' moments.
Because it was quite a contrast between a week ago and now.

Feeling sore all over for no apparent reason. Wasn't that tired for the most part. At worst, it's just my sleep, which is nothing unusual, out of synch again.


Maybe I'm infected with COVID. Except I'm asymptomatic.

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I have a few days alone by my self and a am excited about it. Relaxation time!!

I think that the flappers were the original hippies.

I'll be back in a few hours. My friend is going to take me to church.

Everybody on WP hates me today.

I love shopping.

Shopping is fun, especially on Amazon.

^Yeah, Amazon is fun. I spend lots of time on Amazon. I also like ebay and some foreign online shops, too. I love my local supermarkets, too (only the products, not the lousy staff).

Going to campus again today.

I've been thinking back to my college days. I was young, cheeky and hyper. Those days weren't so bad.

Numbness, hollowness, and emptiness are actually different things.

Numbness is akin to filling a space with nothing but cotton.
Tasting nothing, feeling nothing. Because the nerves are dead.

Hollowness is simply missing something within a space. And in which the space isn't meant to have a gap, or that the space itself isn't supposed to exist.
It's not an existing space -- it's a tear, an injury, an indent, a sign of damage and lack. It's an endless void of craving -- tasting nothing, feeling nothing because there's no story to tell.

True emptiness, on the other hand... Is basically the ocean among the waters and islands, the sky amongst the clouds, the vastness of space itself amongst the stars.
In which the space is but an endless of possibilities -- like a black canvas, where one is eager to draw over it.


And then there's the lack of comprehension.
It is something that may or may not exists. In which there's no story to tell, because, well, there's no nerves to register it, there's no vocabulary to contain it into, and the space may or may not exist at all.
At best, it's this intellectual awareness of unawareness and incomprehension.

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I feel more at peace wearing something that looks like a German helmet than I do wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt. What a way for me to end the 55th Anniversary of The Summer of Love.