Tuesday Quought: to understand

“(..)
and
men are
wonderfull
pityable
beasts
and
few
are
worthy
and none to
my knowledge
chosen”
B. Childish, The Deathly Flight of Angels, Hangman Books, 1990, p. 53.

Not chosen, not worthy, pitiable and wonderful. It kind of summarizes not only me.

One week even the worst seem to have something going for them. This week everybody seems at their worst. And there is only one plausible difference: the beholder. What the hell is wrong with me in picking up noise and assigning value to it? I have an infected prostate, a mental condition which does not pass the test for being a condition, too much time to lament the lack of time I experience as keeping me from anything significant and The Family which is one week all joy & this week all worry.

Who cares?