I almost never read the newspaper, but I did today and saw a story about two men who tried to kill themselves with a circular saw by cutting their arms off. No surprise, but the plan went off without a hitch until they realized that the fourth arm would be a bit of a stretch. They left a note with their apartment manager saying they were committing suicide because their business had failed, and they'd recently been diagnosed as HIV positive. The apartment manager called the police who found three arms on the floor and a whole lot of blood. Both lived to tell the tale, should they wish. The article suggested that the men might be having a mid-life crisis of sorts.
That's one way to put it, I suppose! I remember as a child that term was thrown around a lot as a joke, usually involving men dating much younger women, the cliched sports car as an antidote to the sure knowledge that we all die. I guess driving or sleeping with someone who wasn't born when you were in high school to induce a temporary oblivion is one remedy, certainly much less drastic than cutting off your arms. The worst insult these men would get for their actions of leaving their wives, wearing a few gold chains, or God forbid, a gold nugget ring shaped like the state of Texas was pathetic. That word seems like nothing compared to the reality of cutting off the third arm and realizing their was nothing more you could do except wait to die or be rescued and who can tell which would be worse.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"By daily dying I have come to be." Theodore Roethke
Drinking novel suggestion: Torch by Cheryl Strayed
Benedictions and Maledictions
Eleven more days until The Sopranos airs!