Another shattered day, or should that be another day of shattered tiredness; perhaps a tired shattered-ness will suffice. Drained, wrung-out, exhausted; none of these quite hit the mark, although I feel quite walloped out by all of them.
Just working out the cost of spending time arguing, discussing, with an old acquaintance! Today is the 13th August and, the incident to which I refer occurred somewhere in the hours between 11.00 on 1st August and 15.50 the following day.
It was something of a shock to discover how Neanderthal the political thinking / imagining of my old friend had become, since he fell under the spell of the Daily Fail. Once he had a mind but, now, I began to wonder if that was a false memory. Only when the conversation turned to matters philosophical, theological, and even metaphysical, did the verbal exchanges become rewarding.
Once upon a time my mind and spirit revelled in such conversations, with friends and acquaintances, not infrequently running through from late evening to dawn. In those days, the conversation could be accompanied by a bottle or three of vino, and a few mugs of tea to prevent dehydration. Nowadays, a mere few hours of chatter and discussion, even in the absence of alcoholic refreshment, seems to overwhelm my physical and emotional resources. Two days after our late evening chat a painful exhaustion, from which I’m still recuperating, hit me.
For a couple of weeks before the visitor arrived, I’d been having to resort to wrist, palm, and elbow supports, attempting to alleviate the nauseating discomfort, which frequently seems to emanate from the armpit lymph nodes. At its most discomforting phase, as I curl up, clasping my upper arms tightly to my torso, foul expletives emanate from my vocal organs as if seeking a magical miracle of healing, before the flow of tears erupts. So, perhaps, extended conversation is not the sole cause of my current exhaustion.