The imperative galactical. Vida en verano.

As if a galactical imperative, dissipation.  Even you, Itzhak?  Even me, Cheever.  All things unfurling their life force as if it were an existential fruit roll-up, and then merrily devouring the otherwise precious thing.  Need we change our service to the categorical imperatives in our lives?  Do we alter methods if results don't come?  Indeed, only Caitlyn does the same thing over and over again expecting different results each time.

Life and life more abundantly.

For God's sake people, and for the sake of your own person, enjoy your life now and then.

Indeed, I was struck with a pain, and in the throes, and all I had to do to overcome was remember anything at all that I was grateful for; indeed, most of the time, I have a mystical kind of satisfaction at life.  I call it God, being a Christian, but you might refer to our own galactical imperative with your own tongue, in your own chosen way.  The universe.  Panentheism.  "God is somewhere in there."

I watched the evening swelter break.  I even took to the heat, like a cheap sauna, taking to it and listening to business podcasts; the luminosity was amazing, and I was under an awning with ambient light.  But it broke at its peak as first cloud cover, then cooling winds, then rain, such that during the day, before sundown, the temperature evaporated away twenty something degrees, as if the cooling breath of God himself.

This was more of the galactic imperative, the storms coming to stauncheon the weather, and the weather bleating on us like a reminder of our own sin debts.  A reprieve, it was, that the sum total is less than the peak top number, and even though the light was beautiful, it was down time, time to sit beside the donkey and rest, siesta, and the galactic imperative, the downtime, bleating in our ears.

And the cooling storm, that too, down time, but more enjoyable to take to the awning and listen to the rains, listen to the cooling winds.

Do we after our method, have only madness?  Do we have Donnie, all other life gambits turned up in failure, deciding to drive Uber and pick-up strangers for money?  Do we in service to our method, work a froth in our minds to face the discourse?