Well, here we all are again.  I’m at the train station, having walked here this morning.  The weather’s not bad for walking; it’s warm, but not terribly humid, and there’s a good breeze.

I fear that the following conclusion is inescapable:  I will have to dispense with my boots for any serious walking, and possibly indeed for simple, day-long wear.  Though I walked a total of less than two miles yesterday, and had on knee supports and whatnot, my left foot and my right Achilles tendon, and my hip and back all were quite uncomfortable by the end of the day.  They were all still rather stiff and in pain this morning as I started out (now wearing my New Balance walking shoes) but by the time I’d gotten close to the station, that seemed to have been mostly wobbled out.

So…I feel better after 5 miles in these shoes than after just a physically idle day in the boots.  It’s very sad, and I’m probably far more disappointed than makes any sense at all.  I like those boots a lot.  But I have too much chronic pain already through which to fight to try to get anything done, so I really cannot expose myself to that extra damage.

I really ought to get rid of the boots just to eliminate the temptation to use them, lest I wear them in a fit of unjustified optimism and set myself back significantly.  It would be good to be able to donate them to someone or something, but I don’t really have the wherewithal to do so.  I have no usable vehicle, nor a driver’s license* to drive to an appropriate place for donation, nor anyone to drive me there, and I don’t want to take an Uber for such a purpose, and certainly not to renew my state ID.  If I’m not going to seek medical or psychological/psychiatric help for my much more serious concerns, then I’ll be damned if I’m going to supplicate myself to the bureaucrats of one of the most benighted states‒ironically so, given its nickname‒in the US.

I arrived at the station in plenty of time for the 610 train, but I let it go, as I did the last time I walked here, to give myself time to cool down and dry off a bit before the 630 train.  Also, of course, I’m writing this blog post.

I’m reading Robert Sapolsky’s new book, and it’s quite good and interesting, though so far it’s made no points nor discussed any facts with which I wasn’t already familiar.  I almost “flipped” ahead to the last chapter, because Sapolsky says he’s going to be discussing some esoterica about depression there, and I know he is both personally and professionally interested in that subject.  I hope‒not much‒to maybe learn something new, though I don’t expect it to help me at all.

I also listened to Sean Carroll’s latest podcast yesterday, and it was interesting, but quite short.  I took note and sent myself emails about 2 books, one that the guest recently wrote and one that he mentioned, about which I’ve heard before.  In that moment, I thought they sounded interesting, and I’m sure they would be.  But now that I’m past that first instant of intrigue, I know that I’m not going to get them.  Nothing is particularly interesting; even nothingness itself is not terribly interesting.  I’m reading Sapolsky’s book because I’ve been waiting for it for months, and I liked his earlier book, Behave, and I enjoyed his “Great Courses” course.  He’s an interesting individual.

But there’s only so much I can do to maintain engagement.  I don’t have anyone in my day to day life with whom I can talk deeply about pretty much any of this stuff, and my own company isn’t adequate to keep a conversation going.

I don’t really watch any TV shows or movies or anything‒I mainly just watch “reaction” videos on YouTube, because that’s almost vaguely like watching the movies or shows with a friend who hasn’t seen them before…but not really.  There’s no back and forth, obviously, unless one counts the comments sections, which I don’t.

Also, I have to face it, pretty much none of the people whom I enjoy watching react to various movies or shows would probably want to hang out with me.  They all would surely have better things to do with their time, and certainly better people with whom to do whatever they do.  I’m not just making a snap judgment here; this has been my consistent experience in life.  Most people get tired of being around me before too long, even if they like me (or love me), and in all fairness, I have to admit that I find being around most other people quite stressful and tense much of the time, even if I like them.  A big part of that is, of course, born of fear, and the fact that I sense and recognize how much they think I’m weird and unpleasant, but it’s not as though I can just choose not to fear and sense and recognize those things.

It’s a conundrum indeed, to want to have friends but to have such a peculiar character and  such specialized and rarefied interests that like minded people are hard to find and that in any case one has difficulty maintaining relationships with other people even in the best of circumstances.

Oh, well.  Life is shit, but the world never promised that it would be kind or fulfilling or just or fair or pleasant.  It promises only one thing.

On that note, I’ll bring this post to a close.  It’s already overlong.  I hope you all have a good day.

*Also, my state ID expired Friday, and the stupid website for renewing it has been dysfunctional for as long as I’ve been trying to request a renewal.  I will probably try once or twice more, but I have no desire to try to make an appointment to go to the offices‒none of them are anywhere near where I live or work, and I obviously cannot drive to them.  There’s not really any point to getting the thing renewed, anyway.  It’s not as though my identity itself was granted to me by the state of Florida (AKA America’s syphilitic penis).  The whole state can drown for all I care…and before too very long, much more of it will indeed be underwater than already is.  I’d rather see it burn, but you can’t always get what you want.