Advice from the I-Ching on what to write about next

You are unable to move at the moment.  You're holding two heavy-duty trash bags bursting with wheat pennies.  You'd meant to carry them to the coin acceptor but stopped mid-street, sensing the onset of metaphor.  Don't worry.  You will be relieved before furrows of rips stitch along your inner arm.  You might just drop the bag or let the strained plastic slit.  You look at the omens in the sky.  Not just jets scribbling smoke—even more unlikely.  Something like a solid block of human waste falling through a ceiling, for instance.  You see such extraordinary sights that you are unable to respond.  You try to speak of them, but only the smell of copper drifts from your throat.  You cannot even think to set the pennies down.  Don't worry.  You hear horns and skids whistling distant past you.  You will be relieved or you will not be relieved.  Try not to cry about it.  This is not a mistake.  
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