You Can't Beat The Real Thing
Ain't No Sunshine - Rodney Jones (guitar).
I'm not convinced that imitation sunlight frequencies bouncing off the back of my retinas do quite the same job as the real thing on a beach under a palm tree.
The light box is perched precariously up there on the top of the monitor just waiting for the opportunity to crash down on the keyboard and any fragile fingers that might be active down there. While I admit that a palm tree might drop the occasional deadly coconut bomb, there's always the heat of the sun, the blue of the sky and sea and the sight of a brown skinned, bikini clad, woman who might wander past to make the risk worth taking.
Sitting here in a fleece shirt and thick socks bathed in the peculiar pale light from the SAD box with the central heating cranked right up is somehow not the same thing at all.
You just can't beat the real thing.
"I was feeling really refreshed when I woke up this morning. Are you still feeling refreshed?"Not my words, they belong to Mrs B. and refer to the apparent results of her Light Box sessions.
I'm not convinced that imitation sunlight frequencies bouncing off the back of my retinas do quite the same job as the real thing on a beach under a palm tree.
The light box is perched precariously up there on the top of the monitor just waiting for the opportunity to crash down on the keyboard and any fragile fingers that might be active down there. While I admit that a palm tree might drop the occasional deadly coconut bomb, there's always the heat of the sun, the blue of the sky and sea and the sight of a brown skinned, bikini clad, woman who might wander past to make the risk worth taking.
Sitting here in a fleece shirt and thick socks bathed in the peculiar pale light from the SAD box with the central heating cranked right up is somehow not the same thing at all.You just can't beat the real thing.
Posted by Milt at 12:06:00 pm
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