Sometimes one must take a pause. Breathe in, breathe out. Let all the horrors go swirling down the drain rather like that moment in the Alfred Hitchcock movie "Psycho". That one right after the Janet Leigh character touched the end of the world in the shower thanks to Ma Bates. The one right before son Norman begins to yell something like, "The blood, Mother, all the blood!"
Okay it isn't that bad, but it isn't great either.It is just that once in a while the urge to kick back with some classical music, a cigar in one hand and a Bloody Mary in the other becomes so overwhelming it cannot be ignored.. Yes indeed, get onto the patio, in the sun under a cloudless, brilliant blue, sky and bask in the warmth like some great sea lion lolling on a dry rock. Enjoy the glow while you can because more clouds and cold, damp, winds are due in soon.
You close your eyes and let the light soak into your body and soul while the music drifts through the kitchen and out the open door, spilling into the still air around you. All the angst, drama, tragedy, and cynicism that accompanies being a news junkie melts away and what is left is a perfect few minutes of tranquility. Even the noise of traffic out on May Avenue goes away to someplace distant. The only mildly important things are whether you've added a dash too much worcestershire sauce to the cocktail and if the Thunder can handle the Pistons downtown tonight.
Thoughts of whining, screeching, politicians, murdered girls, earthquakes, mad Iranians, even crazier Koreans, college football disasters, evangelical hucksters, ever mounting blood sugar numbers, Anthony Bourdain, Ann Coulter, the tattered economy, Chinese aircraft carriers, ancient aliens and Mayan prophecies just, thankfully, disappear.
Such times don't last long, they never do. Without them though the world would become simply intolerable, or at least more so than it all ready is.
Thank God for Mozart, a long smoke and a few minutes of peace and quiet every now and then.
And, of course, good vodka.