Gyroscope Review 15-3 - Page 58

The Age of Efficiency by Tim Kahl At the pep talk for the heart failure management group the clinician warns all of us about depression. She informs us that napping in the afternoon and overeating ice cream aren't surefire signs. Beware of waning interest in things you've always had a fondness for. But, I interject, couldn't this be a good thing if you've always had a keen attention for women who are too young for you? How do you know you haven't just matured? She noticeably sags out of exasperation. It seems I've missed the point again. Or once more I have willed myself against a caretaker's cautious construction of the way I should meet my days. What happened to the age when I could grab my ass with both hands and just jump in? Now I'm being carried out to deeper water, still treading comfortably, but a certain vague sense appears of someone on the shore expecting me to disappear beneath the surface. I won't go under. Is that refusal or my being ineffectual? There's no standard to which I can appeal that will help me sort out this question. There's no uncorrupted ideal either. If I want an answer to why I slow down the show of my own demise, whether I'm stubborn or just lazy, there's this husky voice clearly vested in the outcome that speaks: Hey buddy, take a number. This ain't no place to contemplate values — ya' just get it done cheap.
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