Let's put it this way, kava is our spinach.
Stress, general bulshittery and panic attacks etc... is like our Bluto.
These past four months I've lead a team of men providing 1-1 staffing for an elderly man in an old people's home. Just over a week ago one of my guys died. In his home. Alone. I've known this guy for six years, great guy. Very talented actor, painter and just a treasure of a man, unique.
I got the news when I was home on a medical leave from work. It was unreal, I still can't really believe he is gone. His son is 12...
Today was his funeral. I'm working nights at the hospital, so I slept (or tried to) during the day. I woke up an hour and a half before the service and called my driver. As some of you know, my blood pressure has been a tad rebellious as of late and it didn't help when I first - couldn't find my suit - found it, but couldn't find the iron. I was like a rabid headless chicken, running around the house, finding one thing while leaving another behind, searching for that thing etc.. Not so much a panic attack as a freak out.
Thank you
@Steve or should I say Candyman?
Service was, well, great.
Forgive me for the lengthy post, but I've yet to master the art of tweets.
In memory of
“Style is the answer to everything.
A fresh way to approach a dull or dangerous thing
To do a dull thing with style is preferable to doing a dangerous thing without it
To do a dangerous thing with style is what I call art
Bullfighting can be an art
Boxing can be an art
Loving can be an art
Opening a can of sardines can be an art
Not many have style
Not many can keep style
I have seen dogs with more style than men,
although not many dogs have style.
Cats have it with abundance.
When Hemingway put his brains to the wall with a shotgun,
that was style.
Or sometimes people give you style
Joan of Arc had style
John the Baptist
Jesus
Socrates
Caesar
García Lorca.
I have met men in jail with style.
I have met more men in jail with style than men out of jail.
Style is the difference, a way of doing, a way of being done.
Six herons standing quietly in a pool of water,
or you, naked, walking out of the bathroom without seeing me.”
Charles Bukowski