March March March

Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, I gotta march, march march...

I don't know why I'm sitting here like a slug, all consternated, all zapped out. That's not me. My biorhythms aren't meant to be out of whack. Though ten thousand fall at my right hand, it doth not come nigh me. What can you tell yourself?

What can you tell yourself? is a good question. Because there's always a kind of dialogue, or internal monologue that at the same time incorporates many voices, past expectations, present propaganda, and future hopes/fears, the whole thing.

When I get in a funk, it's time to get out. That's not you. That's every other idiot. Popping their pills, dozing off. For me it's raw, raw, raw. Live it till you hit the wall, then keep living it.

So here is my day's resolution, although delivered in the day getting on ... You will not be down. Being down is not an option. Be up, get going, crank it.