Regret

Life has no regrets. Trees and flowers don’t regret. There are lots of things I can do to waste time. I can twiddle my thumbs, whittle a stick, cultivate opinions, or regret something.

Mucking out

Perhaps you’re familiar with the term “mucking out.” One goes into a stall and shovels animal waste into a wheelbarrow for disposal elsewhere.

Too bad we can’t muck out the head. There is no ‘elsewhere.’ Our mental waste is dumped straight into the body, there to foment and ferment and howl for Maalox.

The body is so innocent. It takes for real this churning turbidity.