From the “That’s Fuckin’ Weird” Department

We started a vegetable garden and we started a compost pile. The other day a tomato was found to have been chewed on by a rat. We tossed it into the compost pile. This morning the half-chewed tomato had been placed in the lotus blossom offering dish in front of Kwan Yin. It wasn’t eaten on, just moved.

“Isn’t that interesting,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ weird,” I said.

“We have a spiritual rat.”

“We should help it along its spiritual path to the next life.”

Not sure how to do that without risking the cats. But that’s the cats’ job anyway. Now, if it next moves to the picture of St. Germain, I’ll pay more attention.

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Once again I’m “quitting” Facebook. The only way (this time) is to add “No Facebook” to a list of things I must do every day. I need such a list because, not to overshare, and I seriously doubt this is evident outside my immediate real-life circle, I’m facing mental health issues that must be addressed, and certain healthy daily practices are called for. Exercise (which I’ve always been down for, I’m just lazy and disorganized), diet (which is handled as I am sharing my partner’s keto journey so she doesn’t have to do it by herself), and working to be conscious of all the unhelpful ways I distract myself from myself and generally undermine my own intentions. That latter quite naturally highlights Facebook as something unhelpful. I have already freed myself of the more toxic elements, mainly by learning not to argue overmuch, or engage with certain narcissistic trolls, but while I’ve found a way to keep it light and fun, it’s still a horrible distraction. Even if I only engage with history nerd groups and the occasional old friend from high school or Burning Man (which in hindsight have significant similarities), I’m still bombarded with other people’s idea of Important and Horrifying News (e.g. practically anything said, proposed, or done by the White House occupant), and this is a load of depressing information that a moment’s thought reveals I have no actual use for. Do I really need to know what’s going on in Washington? No. Do I really need to know what’s going on in Sacramento? No, not if it’s more than two blocks from my house.

So, given my mental organization, something I can see struggles with since infancy believe it or not, I’m just super smart and able to cope so none a ya ever knew, anyway, given that, it’s not just a daily but more than an hourly struggle to stay away from the siren song of What’s Goin’ On. This is made easier by the coronavirus thing since there’s nothing goin’ on I feel I’m missing out on. I miss that crazy social life of two plus years ago but eh, wutevs. Thus the utility of having No Facebook on my written-down daily list of Shit I Must Do.

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There must be a third thing before I “publish” so I’m going to state without equivocation that I despise my palm tree. When I moved into this house it was merely an ugly tropical plant about twelve feet tall that somebody had allowed to grow right up by the sidewalk. Six years later it’s a sixty foot tall Mexican Fan Palm that strews ugly black berries all over the immediate vicinity, staining cars, collecting in gutters, and worst of all, germinating in my garden. Where we had carefully put in flowers in a bed of nice white gravel, it now looks like a lawn is growing, each blade a baby palm tree. You can pull them, but only about one out of three includes the bean, so they just grow back. And there are too many to pull in one or even three sessions. Further, I dislike palm trees. Once they get to be tall, they’re about as tree-like as telephone poles. Completely useless. And completely non-native! I can’t afford to have it removed, yet every year I wait the cost goes up. So, my current position has to settle into one of unequivocal hatred. It pleases me to learn that down in Los Angeles, that abode of Satan a six hour drive south, they are all dying.