June 23rd, 2014

searching himself for intimations of the profound

It is 8:47 AM Monday morning in the flow. I am down here in the lower level of our house. I came down here to turn on my old lap top and to look out one of the windows to look at our backyard. It has been raining all night. It is a jungle outside due to the rain. The rain and the humid conditions has caused everything to be luxurious. I will definitely have to mow our lawn once everything dries out. My wildflowers have not bloomed yet.

I got up this morning around 7:55 AM. When I got up a made a pot of coffee and messed with our main computer. We need a new main computer. Carol is still sleeping. She got home last night around 6:30 PM from Emily's baby shower. Emily comes from a large Polish Catholic family here in Michigan. One of her uncles is a Catholic priest here in Michigan. Emily's mother teaches at a Catholic school.

Last night I mainly wandered the house and watched television. Now it is another day to scream.

This morning I have been drinking coffee and reading, "Proust Was a Neuroscientist" by Jonah Lehrer.

I do not know what we will do today to kill Time. But time will go by no matter what we do. Existence keeps zooming by! No way of escape from the grip of Time.

old journal entry September 14, 2006

  • Current Music
    Mark Lanegan "Has God Seen My Shadow? An Anthology 1989-2011"

a sip of water

"I passed a sleepless night on the train, for those old cars, dating back to colonial times, shook, hurled you about, rumbled, and you were pelted with rain, which came in through windows that could not be shut. It was a gray, overcast day by the time we pulled into Sealdah Station. On every square inch of the enormous terminal, on its long platforms, its dead-end tracks, the swamp fields nearby, sat or lay tens of thousands of emaciated people-under streams of rain, in the water and the mud; it was the rainy season, and the heavy tropical downpour did not abate for a moment. I was struck at once by the poverty of these soaked skeletons, their untold numbers, and perhaps most of all, their immobility. They seemed a lifeless component of this dismal landscape, whose sole kinetic element was the sheets of water pouring from the sky. There was of course a certain, albeit desperate, logic and rationality in the utter passivity of these unfortunates: they sought no shelter from the downpour because they had nowhere to go-this was the end of the road-and they made no exertion to cover themselves because they had nothing to cover themselves with.

They were refugees from a civil war, which ended but a few years earlier, between Hindus and Muslims, a war which saw the birth of independent India and Pakistan and which resulted in hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of dead and many millions of refugees. The latter wandered about for a long time, unable to find succor, left to their own fate, vegetating for a while in places like Sealdah Station before eventually dying there of hunger and disease. But there was more to this. These columns of postwar vagabonds encountered throngs of others along the way-the legions of flood victims evicted from villages and small towns by the waters of India's powerful and unbridled rivers. And so millions of homeless, indifferent people shuffled along the roads, dropping from exhaustion, often never to rise. Others tried to reach the cities hoping to get a sip of water there, and perhaps a handful of rice." pg. 28 "Travels With Herodotus" by Ryszard Kapuscinski
  • Current Mood
    contemplative contemplative

the non-Eurpean origins of European culture

It is now in the flow 5:31 PM Monday night. I am down in the lower level writing on my old lap top. I remember long time ago taking this lap top to work to write during my 30 minute lunch break. I only took my lap top a couple of times, because it was easier to write in my diary on paper instead on a computer during my short lunch break. I like writing down here where most of our books are at.

I spent the day basically wandering the house and reading my books. Carol left this morning to do errands and did not get home till sometime after 12 o'clock Noon No Carol left around Noon to do errands and got home around 2:13 PM according to my paper diary. I read this morning into the noon hours from a book titled,"Proust Was a Neuroscientist" by Jonah Lehrer. After read that book by Lehrer I got out to read, "The World of Yesterday" A Memoir by Stefan Zweig.

I want to get back into reading the biography, "Updike" by Adam Begley once again.

I have been trying to read too many books at one time. I do not think I will get back into reading the book, "The Ruin of Kasch" by Roberto Calasso. I am almost finish reading the novel, "Making Things Better" by Anita Brookner. I need to keep reading my books on the Acts of the Apostles (NT). On and on it goes when it comes to the books I want to read or need to finish reading. I am almost finished read the memoir, "The World of Yesterday" by Stefan Zweig. I do not know if I will get back into following books.

"Seven Continents & Forty Years" memoirs by C. L. Sulzberger

"The Essays of A. J. Muste" Edited by Nat Hentoff

"A Life In Our Times" A Memoir by John Kenneth Galbraith

"Working The Room" essays by Geoff Dyer

Well, I suppose I will close to rest my brain. Existence keeps speeding by!
  • Current Music
    Agalloch "The Serpent & The Sphere"