I'm having a TS Eliot kind of day.

Yes, I know it is the Fourth of July and that means I should be concerning myself with patriotism and the conduct of war and other estimable, important things, but I haven't time for that. I'm too busy running.

When Fritz runs, by the way, she means to say METAPHORICALLY and not LITERALLY as it has been some time since she has run...well...anywhere. That's what motorcycles and imaginations are for--getting here and there. Perhaps, I'll clarify.

The mind of Fritz is running on hi-speed, like a record player.
Here are some examples of this frequency:
"What if I had taken that bus in college instead of going to the coffee shop that afternoon?"
"What if I sold the piano?"
"What if I got a second job?"
"What if I die?"
"What if the Zoloft has stopped working and I'm really going crazy this time?"
"What if I have cancer?"
"What if we get evicted?"
"What if we go to war?"

"What does it matter?"

So, whenever I find myself in this state, I watch Run Lola Run, and I come to the same conclusion. None of it matters. Life simply sorts itself out, and whether I die or get evicted or we go to war or the aliens come and steal us all up to the heavens without letting us kiss our mothers goodbye, it all makes the same difference--exactly none.

Or exactly everything--the existence of the cosmos, the last dime in the bank, the final cut--nothing would be proper if it wasn't going exactly as it is going, and we'd be lost in chaos. So there is a season, and a time, and a proper place for things and so on...etc. etc. etc.

And the fire and the rose are one.
Just keep running.