Good afternoon. On the, chatty, 4:45PM out of the City. Happy Monday. The NFI is two. I am metamorphosising.
Y’see, as part of a mid-life-crisis phase, I am finally becoming much more serious about personal health. I have already rid myself of the main killers of my system. As part of my desire to be forty-something in a twenty-something body, I have realized that my body is physically addicted to some of the food-delivered chemicals readily available in the pre-packages and processed stuff we currently rely on. I have been actively trying to find first-source foods to put down my maw. At home, we thankfully make dinner from scratch, with full knowledge of most if not all ingredients. Because of this process, I’m feeling changes my body. I may finally break through and reach puberty. Expect my posts to be more serious.
As I write this, I’m listening to the radio in my headphones. Molly Ringwald, ’80 John Hughes darling of the silver screen, is chatting with her friend/lover/husband Ice-Cube, renowned MC, producer and actor. He looks happy as a successful father and husband and equal partner with her. He is on his iCrackerBot; she is chatting with him; He looks up to continue the conversation away from his game of solitaire or e-mails or whatever. She’s wearing a nice rock.
There are three people, Monty Hall, Agatha from Bewitched, and Nora Dunn, who are obviously regular commuter riders. Monty is discussing the prohibitive cost of converting a bathroom from a half-bath to a full bath for his deadbeat son who can’t seem to get out of the house. Agatha is friendly but haughty. She is of an age where she has the answer to everything, but Emily Post trained to hold her tongue or at least soften the perfectly constructed verbal blows that she has available. Nora Dunn is pleasant and friendly and is chatting about the weekend spring-flurry.
Others include Mata Hari, General David Petraus, the Scarecrow, Gloria Steinem, and Eva Braun. They are armed to the teeth.