December 1st, 2019

the burden of the old capitalist bourgeois decadent Adam

It is 10:02 AM Sunday morning here. It is a cold snowy morning today. It is predicted to rain and snow all day.

I got up this morning around 7 o'clock AM. I did not fall asleep till sometime past 1 o'clock AM last night. I went to bed around 11 o'clock PM last night but could not fall asleep so I read late into the night from a book titled, 'My Century The Odyssey Of A Polish Intellectual' by Aleksander Wat Edited and translated from the Polish by Richard Lourie.

When I got up this morning I ate some food and then messed with our main computer. After messing with our main computer I wrote in my paper diary. I took photos this morning of my December 2019 Diary and posted them. As I was posting these photos of my December 2019 Diary Carol arrived home from work. Carol had gone downtown to Reader's World Bookstore and gotten a stack of Sunday Morning Newspapers. She got a Sunday New York Times and I looked at the The New York Times Book Review.

It has been a normal morning. Carol has gone to bed for the day. She works tonight and then is off for a couple of days.

I have been reading this morning from a novel titled, 'Kasebier Takes Berlin' by Gabriele Tergit Translated By Sophie Duvernoy.

This afternoon I plan to watch professional football. Yesterday I watched college football and read from a book titled, 'George Marshall Defender Of The Republic' a biography By David L. Roll.

There is not much else to report this morning. Existence keeps speeding by. It is a new month and we are in the Winter season once again.

I will close to drift. There is no way of escape.

There were ninety and nine that safely lay
In the shelter of the flock,
But one was out on the hills away,
Far off in the cold and dark;
Away on the mountains wild and bare,
Away from the tender Shepherd’s care.

“Lord, Thou hast here Thy ninety and nine;
Are they not enough for Thee?”
But the Shepherd made answer: “This of Mine
Has wandered away from Me;
And although the road be rough and steep,
I go to the desert to find My sheep.”

But none of the ransomed ever knew
How deep were the waters crossed;
Nor how dark was the night which the Lord passed through
Ere He found His sheep that was lost.
Out in the bleak desert He heard its cry—
All bleeding and helpless, and ready to die.

“Lord, whence are those blood-drops all the way
That mark out the mountain’s track?”
“They were shed for one who had gone astray
Ere the Shepherd could bring him back.”
“Lord, whence are Thy hands so rent and torn?”
“They’re pierced tonight by many a thorn.”

And all through the mountains, thunder-riven,
And up from the rocky steep,
There arose a cry to the gate of heaven,
“Rejoice! I have found My sheep!”
And the angels echoed around the throne,
“Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His own!”

https://en.internationalism.org/ir/139/decadence
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