That cat's something I can't explain

Monday, and considering it's unfortunate position in the order of work days, it wasn't a bad one. The weather was accommodating - it was nice not feeling chilled to the bone for a change - and work moved at a steady, productive clip. The only downside was my mental state earlier in the day. My thoughts were erratic and I was having trouble being direct in conversations, or to put it another way, I was not making much sense. Not a new development, this disorientation - I've been through it before - and despite its alarming qualities, it wore off eventually. And as clarity blossomed, I gave serious thought to changing certain aspects of my lifestyle that may have contributed to the delirium.

I saw Life of Pi yesterday. Some movies need to be seen on the big screen; this was one of them. The 3d wasn't intrusive, it was artfully rendered; many of the images were breathtaking. It was also a deeply spiritual film, but not in a preachy, creepy way. Oh, Ang Lee, you've done it again. Go see Life of Pi, my dear ones, or something really truly awful is going to happen to the Golden Retriever population. I'm serious.

I've mentioned it here before that I've modified and expanded my yoga practice, but what has gone unmentioned is how fucking strong and horny it's making me. Ok, maybe I'm overstating matters a bit, especially as concerns feeling horny, which is not to suggest that my libido is a wilted thing, only that I can't with any certainty say yoga has increased it. Anyway, physically, at least, I've been feeling pretty damn awesome as a result of my yoga practice. And the idea of becoming an instructor has risen to the surface more than once. Who knows.

I've been reading The Shining and Moby Dick. It's a safe bet I'll finish The Shining first, despite starting it well after Moby Dick. I'm not going to lie to you: Moby Dick could have used some trimming. The writing is fantastic and there are sections that are sublime, but there is too much cetology and not enough story. I guess I'm just an uncultured bumpkin. At least according to my mother, that is. 

At some point, I may watch an episode of Saxondale, but first I'll watch The Walking Dead. Who will die tonight? I don't know and I don't care. I'm chiefly concerned with absorbing some violence and excessive gore and hopefully some explosions and people in states of perpetual terror. Does that make me a bad guy? It does, but I haven't sunk so low as Billy. Not yet, my friends. Not yet. There is hope.