Suspended, not Suspenders

It's a gentle feeling. A sort of transient, dream-like mood not unlike the subtle caressing high you get when you've had a little too much drink. You know, when you haven't quite hit the hard wall of nausea but when you've gone way past just a little tipsy. Like standing up straight on a sea-borne boat. Like after spinning around in circles. Like waking up in a plane mid-flight. That light, breezy feeling.

Hammocks, such sinful pleasures they bring.

I have never really entrusted myself to a hammock whenever I choose to lie in one. There's too much risk and fear in it; the string could loosen or the material could break and you could injure yourself, you could sway too much that you end up flying to the neighboring state, you could get way too comfortable and realize that you can't pull yourself out, you could.... well. The list goes on and on.

I was being cautious. Careful. Chickenshit. (I suppose, three ways of saying the same thing) I don't quite trust people, so how can I bloody well trust a hammock? How can I trust the might of productive industry? How can I trust gravity? How do I know gravity's not out to kill me? All this complete lack of trust that's in me, no wonder why my shoulders are so tense.

But this afternoon, something changed in the way I connected with the lovely hammock. I climbed into one, shoes and all, pulling both my legs in for the first time and settling my posterior into the very center of the groove. I nestled myself in, and while I was nervous for awhile at first, I just let myself take a breath, and decided that....hey, maybe we're never supposed to be in control of anything after all.

So I closed my eyes, and felt the cold breeze take me. Swaying I was, not too little that I wouldn't feel the light-headed sensation, but not too hard that I would attract attention. And then, for the first time in a long time, I relaxed and let the whole world take over from here.

It was wonderful. It was perfect. Yes, I think it was the happiest I've been in a long time.



And then the clerk told me that testing was not allowed.
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I wonder why the most versatile word in the English language, supposedly the universal and most flexible mode of verbal communication in the world, is a swear word (read: Fuck)?

What does that say about modern civilization?

(Currently listening to:- "I'll be there for you" by The Rembrandts)