Maudlin aspects have tendencies toward exaggeration, and skimmers may wonder if I am jerking their chain about my health. Bladder cancer is unlikely, but my reality is I am headed for a systems break if I cannot change my environment and find some way back to an ascendant arc. Regardless of what is treatable, and what is the accretion of age, I need something else, and I know I do not have much biological time left before my flesh increments more salaries, except mine. These hours are my favorite hours to work, and I might as well be in a vegetative state.
I have not mentioned the elephant that usually trails in the wake of an individual of such intensity and impulse, but this too is a conceit, the self indulgent depressed narcissism of disability and suffering, which I have done my best to resist while not shying from its many avenues of manufacture, but I could just cave, and go back to the regiment of institutionalization, and if I did I'd probably attempt to goad the paraprofessionals into physically abusing me, to shorten the duration. In more droll and immediate fashion, grabbing a bite, and off to sleep.
If I am fortunate enough not to stroke out in the process, I am focusing on three relocation areas to investigate:
1) Going home. Beppe makes me dread what a reality check of landing on Tuscan soil would amount to, but dying on Italian soil is my last remaing desire, and as soon as I can manage the weather I am scheduling a consulate visit, perhaps with the Toshiba in tow for a real time post.
2) Going to Massillon, having researched so much of Ohio for a political fantasy now passe.
3) Texas, but that would be a huge paradigm shift.
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