The Beautiful

In the eyes of the beholder, whatever.
Many things are beautiful.
A full dance floor, these kids these days who've taken classes in Lindy Hop and frantically hop to any beat.
Beautiful really.
My children, all Gor Gee Us!
Growth and change. Skin.

Personally I don't find myself beautiful, but I do have good tone -- and I don't mean muscle. Though the heart muscle is a beaut.

The obvious: sunrise, sunset, tenderness, passion (although I must say passion can be pretty ugly, twisty, lumbering....)
Grey hair is beautiful, they tell me.

Love is beautiful, and therefore my marriage is beautiful, and the potential lack thereof is beautiful, because in its negation it promotes that which it negates.
And again we say, whatever.

The day I took LSD in the spring of 1967, and it wasn't real or wasn't enough, but I spent the whole afternoon roaming around various parks and woods with a friend who kept asking "Are you OK?"
Beautiful.

I think the final episode of the Wire is beautiful, though I keep just catching a few scenes at a time. I know, sacrilege -- a TV show! Beautiful? Beholder, dude, beholder.

Love is beautiful. And the greatest of these is desserts, which spelled backwards is stressed. and love spelled backwards is evol, so Darwin was right and the Bible is metaphoric, dinkbrain.
The Big Book of AA is beautiful.
A lack of pain is beautiful.
And pain is beautiful.

Swelling is not.
Tears are.
Genitals, well not really, sorry.
Eyes, always.
ears, rarely.

And if you want to fight about any of this, that's lovely.
A bounced check. Is a joy forever.
Overdraft protection. Beauty.

The word ass is beautiful, though most associations are not. Well, some are not.
AAA (Triple A) can be quite lovely. But not as good as AA. And of course a single A is what millions strive for.

Ending this post. Nice.