Not going to trade today. The week has been choppy and less volatile than recent history. I do not have the best track record on Fridays like these. Also I am to attend a tree and shrub pruning seminar today hosted by some professor at Michigan State University who has invented over 100 tools. I dig that he invented tools and I look forward to learning something different today.
The liberal arts are keeping me sane in lieu of social interaction. Instead of hot yoga I have philosophy and meditation. Instead of all-night raves in unsanctioned buildings I’ve taken a deep-dive into the fiction and non-fiction that came out of San Fransisco in the early 60s. Instead of pumping iron and swimming laps I’ve dusted off the old saxophone.
The only problem is I weighed 182lbs last week at the doc and that is a lot of mass to carry into snowboard season. While most don’t see it because I carry weight well, I am clinically overweight. With a BMI of 25.4 which is pretty disgusting. Something has to change.
I have taken to eating chicken eggs like a snake. Two at a time. Nearly every day. Prior to the pandemic I consumed maybe 5-6 eggs a month. Things are changing.
The isolation is creating odd voids that I’ve taken to filling with eggs and panned cakes and it shows.
It’s not so much the work from home part. I’ve been work from home for nearly eight years. It’s the entertain from home I am new to. I prefer to take my libations kicks out in public. Not alone.
Most illnesses can be traced back to either consuming too much or not enough alcohol. Right now I am plagued by a lack of consumption. I cannot drink more than a few sips of burbon without going to sleep in the tranquil cells of Mothership. Something has to give.
Anyhow. Either I need to figure out how to liven this place up or start taking my hooch intravenously because I am succumbing to the great American sickness—a dull mind and pudgy growths of fat along the back and thighs.
These are my concerns, dude. Not yours. I hope this blog entry finds you in good health and thriving cognitive spirits. To hell with the pandemic. The big bad cold. I wonder how many novel corona viruses were going around San Fransisco in the early 60s…free love, man.
Alright, let’s dial back in come Sunday.
Until then, I remain, eager for action while grotesquely long bitcoin and Big Tech.
Raul Santos, November 20th, 2020
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