Finally rose from my bed around 1pm. I woke up much earlier, but that state of half-sleeping/half-consciousness kept me down for a while. Heard a purr and found out that Bob had been slumbering on the floor next to me - aaaw. A bit of left-over Manuel burrito and the mighty train of my intellect got back and chugging down the rails of my stream of consciousness.
This day felt just like yesterday, just like tomorrow would. The date might be different, yet the change would be zero. I have achieved emotional and functional equilibrium, but static systems only lead towards death and decay. I need a sense of something larger, and summer fails to provide it.
book reviews for teacher
Which is not to say I do nothing. I finished all but the Crusade section of "Extraordinary Delusions and the Madness of Crowds". While his writing style is slightly antiquated (fair amount of exaggeration fills every tale), I could imagine the author as a 20th centry inhabitant. He is Enlightened. He is rational, or at least fairly so. It's very intersting to read condemnations of the witch-hunts from almost a century and a half ago. I always imagined that as a fairly recent modern idea. He knows the true translation of the Biblical phrase "Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.", which I doubt most modern people know about, even those damn fundies who rage against Wiccans practising the religious freedom they cried so much for. (It's actually a law against fortune-tellers and poisoners.) I liked the list of ways to divine the future. Interesting chapter on the magnetic mystics, and on the religious and political decisions that influenced hair length and facial hair over the eras. How strange to think a 10th century Catholic Church decision could make Disney ban long-haired men in the '60s. The chapter about fads and slang in London was informative as well. Maybe I should bring back some of the phrases. "Quoz!" Loup-garou is another nice old word, even if it is French. Interestingly enough, the book is available public domain around the Internet.
Naked Lunch was interesting, if not profound. I always wish for profundity in books, but I rarely find it. Insight must come from within, even if a book's message is the medium. Reminds me, I should pick up some Marshall McLuhan. As for Naked Lunch - Junk, junk, junk, homosexual, homosexual, homosexual. What a writer - he expresses himself in such a way, what is Saniflush? More terms for me to lock in my memory palace - pod, grass, hot shot, Interzone, Annexia. Having innoculated myself, I'll dive into it again later.
todo dos trabajo
I've decided to start a fun game called Node Hunt. So far, I've successfully caused the nuking of a writeup from The Settlers of Cattan and both Mexicans writeups. I got a Pink Floid Synchronization phenomena writeup killed with xp loss. A good start so far.
My friend did not miss his court date. Life may go on. My friend is not going to prison for failure to appear. I may start breathing again.
I fucking gashed my face up shaving. I have no excuse why - maybe it was too long since last I shaved, but I now have something like five wounds, areas where the top layer of epidermis is simply gone. A razor cut is peculiar in that it seldom hurts during commission. Your first sign is the puddle of blood holding onto the side of your face through surface tension and growing all the while. It doesn't even hurt when you see it, which doesn't put it in the "don't tell me when I'm injured" category. But it hurts like a bitch when you shower. I whimpered. I should have paid more attention after the first slip, but without the quick brick-to-the-head lesson of immediate pain, good old negative reinforcement, the shaving neurons are likely to continue unmolested by disciplinary action.
food, music and more whining
Dinner was Milano's and music was later provided by Music Exchange. I picked up Velvet Underground's self-titled album cheap (my freshmen roommate interested me in them), David Holmes' lets get killed for a bit more, and some less than stellar album called Slow Riot for New Zero Kanada - Godspeed You Black Emperor!. I saw the title on E2 and so on a whim - too bad, it's disappointing. One music track, one rant with music layered on top. Velvet Underground is playing as I type this. I had other thoughts and inspirations today. Without the permanence of paper, they've drifted away, and I'm feeling the sadness of missing something that can never be recreated. I'm writing to avoid that sadness - enough of life's drifted away into forgetfulness.
I type obligatory morning, intending to seperate the paragraphs with stylish and koan-like headings, and this narrative sinks into recursion. Night.