Learn From Paul Giamatti!!!!

[mallorys_camera]

Yesterday was gorgeous.

And I did return to the Walkway, my old tromping ground. Its familiarity was soothing.

The Wallkill, much smaller, is a prettier river.

But the Hudson is majestic.

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On the Walkway, the Hasidim were out full force with their families. Old mystery solved—they bus them in from the Hasid compounds in Orange & Ulster Counties.

Hasidim roller skate & ride bicycles and scooters just like us! They speak a strange 19th-century variant of Yiddish and wear weird hats and polyester suits & dresses that leave no flesh uncovered, not just like us! They fulfill Elon Musk's commandment: Go Forth & Multiply!

I am philosophically opposed to human insect colonies, so the Hasidim present quite the quandry: On the one hand, they are a rigid, oppressive culture; on the other hand, they don't evangelize or care what I do—in fact, non-Hasidim barely exist to them except as physical objects—and shouldn't people be allowed to live however they want to live?

I thought about taking photographs, but that would have been rude.

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Also, though I'm toned as shit, all those gym trips don't seem to have enhanced my stamina.

Tromping five miles exhausted me. In particular, I could feel it in my vastis lateralis and other quadriceps.

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Icky has suddenly begun smoking dope, which has put him in a confiding mood, so on my way out the door, he had to ramble at me for 10 minutes about a hiking trail less than a mile away from the casa where you can find chanterelles & chicken of the woods and ancient apple trees.

The trail sounded kinda cool, actually, so I may check it out next week.

But it was still weird listening to Icky—who'd told me some months back that the only recreational drug he ever does is cocaine (figures), and that he never drinks alcohol or touches marijuana.

After the trail recommendation, he had to tell me how the Eulogy episode of Black Mirror's seventh season made him cry. And this was Definitely Weird because the Eulogy episode of Black Mirror's seventh season is all about how misplaced Pride ruined True Love 4-Ever for Paul Giamatti—and, I mean, c'mon, Icky! Why would you imagine I give a fuck about your emotional problems?

But I tilted my head to the left, turned my palms up, and smiled—that's what they taught us to do in nursing school when you're trying to convey to a patient: I hear what you say!

All the while thinking, However badly Paul Giamatti may have fucked up his love life, I know he didn't make his tenants go wiithout heat for a week in the middle of the winter! Learn from Paul Giamatti!!!!

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Today is another glorious spring day.

So after I finish my Remuneration allottment, I will figure out a way to get out in it.