So here I sit, alone in my office. Kids gone. Wife of course not here. Just me.
— § —
You are not a good day. I don’t like you. I’m not sure why I don’t like you, I just don’t.
I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but in keeping with Today, I go around in circles without making any progress. Some days are like that. You are like that, Today. And I dislike you for it.
Please don’t take it personally. You are a day and you cannot help but be the day that you are. But I am a person and not a day, and I am also free to dislike certain days. Let’s leave it at that.
— § —
The last couple of days we have had snow. Lots of snow. A large, slow storm system.
It is beautiful outside. Some storms are certainly beautiful, and this one was. Some storms are also menacing somehow. This one was that as well. Beautiful but dark. Unapologetic. Heavy-handed. Not ill-willed, just somehow brutal, as nature can be.
Beautiful, but worth being wary of.
— § —
I feel things very deeply. I cope with this in different ways from other people; there are a variety of ways to be a person who feels things very deeply. But I do. The world is never, ever “business as usual” for me. And if I ever say to anyone that it is, I am lying. Or rather: I am coping. It does, in fact, happen, though not as often as I’d like.
Because you can’t be someone that feels things very deeply and at the same time that simply lives “in the moment.” People that talk this way don’t quite understand what they’re talking about. You must cope. You can’t just “go with it.” Whether that coping is meditation, religion, practiced discipline, drugs, alcohol, whatever. The people that say you should just “go with what you feel right away” have no idea what kinds of trouble deeply feeling people would get into if we acted on every impulse or allowed every sensation to unconsciously overtake us.
The world would be chaos.
I do suspect that there are a large number of people who don’t feel things so very deeply. Sometimes it seems to me that it would be easier and more sensible to be one of them. But I’m not.
— § —
I like that one. But there are others.
“All that is gold does not glitter; not all those who wander are lost; the old that is strong does not wither; deep roots are not reached by the frost.”
— § —
Invisible walls make for the most ecstatically catastrophic crashes, because no-one slows down before reaching them, and no-one is quite sure what they’ve encountered, assuming they’ve retained consciousness at all.
Invisible walls are built mostly by similarly invisible homunculi who are resentful of those that can be seen.
— § —
A lens is a magic artifact whose aperture is eminently permeable but in a special way; it is also solid as rock. The entire universe may pass through it instantly yet the lens itself is not affected and need not bend.
As the universe passes through it, it is inverted, curved, and ever-so-slightly blurred, all in the interest of truth and its eternal preservation.
This is why lenses have been the secret prayer-objects of all of society since their invention, and why their inventors could not but have been spiritual men. They understood that they were appropriating one of the reality technologies of God, and that its placement in human hands would forever multiply not only human power, but also its consequences and resonances.
— § —
Over the years, there have been many occasions on which I typed furiously to produce an entry, then published it, then immediately pulled it back, cognizant of the damage that I was about to do myself and others.
The feelings thus represented were thus cathected and enlarged even as they were ultimately re-repressed. This often meant an intensification of the distress that had given rise to the now hidden post in the first place.
I am trying desperately not to do this any longer, and have been for some time. Ideally, I’ll give myself the space to establish beforehand whether I ought to publish. And once I publish, ideally I will not unpublish.
I have to admit that this is, in some ways, a frightening enterprise at times. This whole blog is.
— § —
But throughout my entire life, there has generally been no-one able to listen to me as well as myself or my blog.
The question of why I don’t have more friends can also in some ways be answered in that way.
I don’t have more friends because history demonstrates again and again that most friends can’t (this word meant in a variety of ways) hear me anyway.