Zombie

The most damaging thing about a busy work week is that it doesn't allow you time to plan for the weekend. Maybe not the most damaging, but damaging. And so the weekend is here and I am tired and soon to be bored. What do I wish to do? I've planned for nothing so everything will be haphazard and most likely unregenerative and unsatisfying. I'll feel with anxiety the moments flowing through me. I will be one of those people who doesn't know what he wants, one of the living dead.

Of course, the weather adds to the discontentment. Hurricanes pile up offshore. The sky is a leaden gray. It is a horrible time to be in the sub-tropics. Life will not return in full force until the end of October. Now, dangerous plants grow tall overnight. All yards struggle against unnamable weeds. Trees grow full quickly and close off the sky. The visual world shrinks. The windows fog. Everything and everybody looks fatigued and worn. Often you catch a waft of sickening sweet rot.

There are days when we can do nothing but walk through life, Zombies to ourselves and others. It is a time to throw tarot cards or practice alchemy. There are reasons why southerners were considered lazy and dangerous. Bad things happen in the southern summer. Read Faulkner or Williams. There are palpable tensions in those works that are real. Rapes and beatings and psychological cruelties.

Maybe that's just the thing to do! Read, I mean, not the other.