Have you screened yourself from The Good Stuff™?

Much to do this fine Saturday.

And praise Deity, next to none of it involves screens.

It's occurs to me maybe the meaning of screen in the sentence “I screened the applicants” laughs quietly in how said bastions of pixellation literally screen the world from us, i.e. get in its way, have us elsewhere, elsewhen. We might have had a really amazing reality, but, you see, we screened it away.

One definition I found that nails the fuck out of it: “something that covers or disguises the true nature (as of an activity or feeling)”


We've been back out to bars and such more of late, and the difference in fulfillment speaking to others “in person” and pouring verbiage into /dev/null, as it were, is stunning. I almost never leave this keyboard from writing, say, a blog post without feeling closer to shit (knowing in advance few will read, and even fewer grok) than the “Awww, do we really have to go?!?!” elation of body-to-body (I'd have typed “face-to-face” except these idiotic screening devices can do that.. sorta...).

My wife and I had perhaps our biggest argument, last night.. lotsa kitchen sink et. al. dragged into it (“... and then you <something more evil/inconsiderate/stupid than one things oneself capable of> ...“)

Then she stewed outside as I stewed walking the neighborhood alone. Then I returned, got ready for bed. She eventually joined. And, oh, did we join. I mean... last night's ode to population explosion was epic. I mean total loss of control... loss of everything save the burning need to keep this fucking life ball rolling. Sure, it's trying to roll uphill. But, hey.

Mmmm... mmm mmm mmm.....

Of course, merely typing about it has this body leaning in the direction of hope for a morning repeat. Love morning. Yeah, it has its issues. Literally. But I swear I'm at least twice more capable in the morning than night. I mean, including awakening “ready” <coughs> and the whole (dad humor in three.. two..) shebang....