For those who may have missed the first hundred times I quoted my favorite words of wisdom from the Bard, here they are again:

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time.
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”

– William Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act V, Scene 5

And that pretty much sums up how I’ve been feeling recently. The world has turned to shit, and I’m too old to fight. When you’re younger, there are always possibilities, hope for a brighter future, something to work for. My possibilities are behind me; there will be no more great adventures, no travel, no meaningful work. Most of my friends are gone, passed on before me; those that are left are distant, younger, and busy trying to salvage their own lives.

Even my blog has lost its meaning. It’s an effort to write lately, rather than the pleasure it used to be, because the subject matter is all so depressing and debilitating. Yesterday, I had one reader . . . one solitary person who cared what I wrote. It’s not worth the effort if the words just get lost in the void.

So, unless something miraculous happens to rouse me from this lethargy, I’ll turn from writing to reading the works of better — and obviously more successful — writers, watching British TV, and talking to the dog.

We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
8/14/25