God's green name

I think it will be good when I run out of the chocolate I brought with me.  I gave away two bags, the Lindt truffles I filled the office bowl with in Said Wali’s office disappeared in minutes. 

And I uploaded the final requirement for this university, this behemoth of academic hugeness I just don’t know yet what in God’s name I’m getting myself into.  Academic writing I look at written in 1998 just doesn’t impress me at all my friend. 

So, I am glad it is done.  Now I will wait.  Until then a new class begins tomorrow morning.  Today and yesterday afternoon temps are in the sixties this week and ten degrees warmer at night.  The difference between 32 and 42 degrees is significant!  Warm enough to take a shower this afternoon, a Friday it is and which rest was welcome.

Writing.  It is one hellava skill to do well in.  My best writing, well, I have no idea if it is my best or worst or a little bit of both and a lot of and too many ‘what the’s’ and  we’re gonna have to say sorry but thank you for applying you silly nut cake. 

If I actually go I could stay another year and do an abridged research masters degree and then I’d be prepared to do four more years for a doctorate in who the hell knows anything anymore, a guide to religious nuttery though if I did go to leuven this will be the only opportunity I’ll have to go;  imagine such a journey following the spirit I  was warned not to engage in for they would lead me down the road to ruin and….

This might be the best chance I’ll get to visit Jerusalem.  What do you think about that?  Is it really necessary this year?  No, and nothing is going to happen this 5*23 either because its seven years now, dude, nothing auspicious for you here or in year eight.  You only wish and therein lies your fall from grace and my heart hurts. 

1.23.16

8:46am—I stood at the top of the stairs and watched the morning’s first rays fire off from the empty horizion.  seven ten.  I insisted having a class before the sun rose wasn’t a good idea.  Three men came today and as the orange glow brightened the subdued room and on the face of the professor of medicine our time was about finished.  Time for a third coffee.

 Under Sint-Antoniuskerk is Fr. Damien‟s Crypt. Crypts of Holy men are places pilgrims come to pray and offer supplication and with such collective prayer there is energy and the holiness, the „atma‟ or spirit from which holiness leaves its immanence, is present. I don‟t think Fr. Damien is too pleased about the state of the church in his hometown either.

What would be your response if you read this on an application?  Would you be concerned?  Would you be mystified?  Would you find it humorous, disturbingly so or would it just be a smirk, ya, right like you know by hanging out in a crypt for ten minutes you can communicate somehow with something there.

It’s not very academic but more important is it a sample of my best writing?   How the hell would I know?  When Columbia universities on the east and west coasts didn’t find my writing samples worthy, shouldn’t that have been the reason to accept me because I needed help with a craft which is always a work in progress.  I don’t know.  A colleague suggested my sample should reflect the way I write in this blog.  I don’t know about that either sometimes. 

10:35pm—Twenty five drops of grapefruit seed extract in my late night green tea with honey should be enough.  My morning class continues tomorrow and then Tuesday before we return next week, oh joy, to get up early again.  I was on a streak and was getting used to staying up until one or two in the morning but I noticed when I woke up at six thirty this morning the sky at the bottom of the horizon was light. 

Tomorrow is a full moon, and how many have I got left here?  six?  How in God’s green name am I going to survive?