Last night Mrs. Wife and I saw The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. It’s the true story of a man with “locked-in” syndrome. He can’t communicate with the outside world, but is completely aware of what goes on around him. It sounds like an awful premise, but it’s filled with hope and beauty.
I’m gong to hire someone to follow me around 24-hours a day. His (or her) job will be to smack me aside my head every time I complain about how DIFFICULT and DREARY my life is. Even if I’m in the middle of a dream and start mumbling negativity in my sleep—pow. I’ll walk around with a swollen face for a while, but perhaps I’ll eventually realize how fortunate I am. How many times do we need to be taught this lesson before it finally sinks in? Eh?
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Tonight, The Police and Elvis Costello at an outdoor venue. I saw both of these bands separately early in their careers. They’re older, I’m older and the tickets are considerably more expensive this time around. It’s the middle-aged spread tour.