12.12.14
I slept
poorly last night and didn’t cross the border this morning to attend mass. A meager volume of cheap whiskey yesterday
evening left my stomach groan and I may dump the remains of this foul
brew. You may dump it? There is no reason to keep it, it makes me
ill but before it makes me ill it gives me that moment, albeit brief, to think
differently. Whiskey doesn’t open the
pathways to original thought like other safer forms of temporary enlightenment,
but when it’s the only darn thing available, what to do.
So I washed
shirts, finished The Spiral Staircase, agreeing with Armstrong all the
way though I do believe in one faith more than others, that is not to say my
faith is in any way superior or ‘righter’ than other faiths, it’s just right
for me. And I began Megan Marshall’s
bio, Margaret Fuller: A New American Life. And so far it’s good. Fuller was the first female foreign
correspondent, fifty years after America became a country and at the age of
seven had learned Latin. And yet there is nothing to suggest in her life, I’ve
read to where she’s now 18, that she was raised in aristocracy. She was a normal kid with a father who was a
lawyer and was away in Washington six months out of the year, and who excelled
very early. I don’t know yet why I
bought the book, aside from the blurb on the cover that it won the Pulitzer
Prize.
The internet
has returned. I listen to morning ragas
and the television remains off. I debate
on whether I’ll cross the border tomorrow for lunch and shopping. I should get more coffee. I’d like more of those Greek chobani
yogurts. Anything else? Just getting out of the grotto helps.
In my confessional blog eleven or so years ago I turned away from a life that I couldn't agree with, a life that was no longer me. And with the turn friends I knew were left behind. It isn't something I'm proud of, it just happened. And telling those friends who ask what happened to me, well, it's there in my blogs.
Well, does this mean you cannot find it in your heart the means and resolve to ask forgiveness for severing your relationship with them? The Dalai Lama might say there is something wrong with my heart and there is a pain nestled deep in my mind and I have to extract it in order to forgive myself first. Perhaps. I tire of being upset with God for pervasive evil in our world. I am no longer upset with a divine decision to keep me single. Armstrong reminds me of the gift of silence I wouldn’t have if there was a woman sharing my sheets. Such is the life of decision making in the will of God-Om and not I on this one. So what is it?
I don’t
know.
12.13.14
Not too long
ago I’d look at these once in a century uniquely sequentials and think chances
of a cosmological event occurring was likely but I don’t think this
anymore. More than half the world
doesn’t follow the same calendar. I imposed meaning onto numbers and there is
nothing there. Surely more bets will be
placed in Vegas and Ladbroke but it’s silly.
Today is no different from tomorrow.
If a thousand days is like a day to some distant creator that means 4000
hours have passed in the 15 minutes I’ve sat here trying to figure this
out. Is there any reason I shouldn’t
cross the border now and go straight to Pacos for tacos and a few beers?
Perhaps a
favorite seasonal tune, it certainly helps digest a Pacos meal. While I am appreciative of the border pass I
know I’m spending more money, twice as much if I didn’t have it, and I know my
quality of life doesn’t improve because I buy and eat food not available
here. It’s about having access to it and
with six weeks left on the card, I am compelled to cross every weekend and
stock up. Oh John what did you buy that
you really don’t need? A stollen? The expiration date on this thing is March of
2015. German rye bread. These thin slices don’t have an expiration
date I see. But they do go well with
smoked salmon and cream cheese. Another
bag of Starbucks Holiday blend, in the freezer this has no expiration date,
right? Lulus was out of the greek
chobani single serving yogurts, a good thing I guess. One of those fellas costs 4 bucks. Is that the same in the states?
The only
problem with drinking beer in the afternoon is wanting to go to bed now. Criminy it’s only five in the afternoon.
Where was I when I listened to this every day?
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