One more of the world-famous aphorisms, and you could just shoot me in the head. Somebody tells me the other day (uncalled for advice): “Don’t let go too soon, at the same time, don’t hang on too long…” World is full of ‘em buggers too keen to dish out advice. Anyway, I should be so lucky that the phone Gods decided to let me in to their temple again – well, I STILL can’t make any fucking calls but I can receive them! Yaaay!! Yeah, can you hear the grinding noise? Must be my knees scraping the gravel outside – I am indebted unto eternity – for restoring my phone service, so what if I can’t make calls – mobile phones are just “cute” little receptors, that are programmed to receive three hundred and ninety nine utterances of the word “like” on a daily basis, and as an accessory are also designed to complement the utteror of that word with respect to the colors in her clothing. Would it be too much to ask for me to be able to make just one or two measly little calls at least by the end of today? If its not too much trouble, perhaps just a little something to keep in mind the next time you are restoring a customer’s phone service? Oh and would it be stretching it too far if I asked for fries to go with it (make that freedom fries please, we live in politically correct times here!), and perhaps a soda pop too? Naaah, think I’ll pass – shouldn’t push my luck, right? Two months down – back to the homeland, still struggling with mobile phones and bank cards and the like.

Funny that we contemplate existentialism so much and spend all our waking time brooding over things that matter but don’t and vice versa, and yet when you lie awake at night unable to sleep, existentialism is the farthest thing from your brain. So well, another of my woes (swear this is my last rant post! After this I will cross over to the shiny-happy breed) - coming back to the homeland, and allergies never see the end of day. Breathlessness gets worse by night (dust, pollution, you-name-it) and I sometimes have to sit up at night just to be able to breathe in. When you’re wondering and maybe panicking a little about where the next breath will come from (literally), all of a sudden theorizing about existentialism doesn’t seem like such a high priority somehow, does it? Anyway, no wonder then that I love early mornings so much, I get to breathe in fresh oxygen! Talk about putting a price on things you can’t put a price on (the best things in life being free and all that jazz) and voila, the next thing you know, you have oxygen bars springing up all over the place here.

Maybe the light will still shine down on me just yet, one of these days. Grab a shaft of it and stuff it in a glass bottle for eternity – that’s what I should do. And then look at it, and “theorize” endlessly about the universe we live in and why the world goes on the way it does. The answers are out there somewhere, I just need a little oxygen for now (and that is my answer) and my day is made, may the Force be with you all. On your way out, would you be kind enough to leave me a pocketful of air somewhere – perhaps in the drop-box? Beatles fan, that’s me alright. “…All I need is air…” - retro-editing they call it perhaps, hope y’all will forgive me for it.