Crooked Finger (crookedfingers) wrote,
Crooked Finger
crookedfingers

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returning to the proletariat being the worst threat imaginable in bourgeois society

It is 8:42 AM Thursday morning in the flow of existence. The sun is shining this morning which is cool. I just finished eating a morning meal. I am listening to the new Primal Scream record this morning. I have all the music of Primal Scream in my music collection. How many Christians right now are listening to Primal Scream. I got out to look at this morning a book titled, "Introduction To Reformed Scholasticism" by Willem J. Van Asselt.

I have been mainly reading lately a book I got in the mail yesterday titled, "The World of Yesterday" A Memoir by Stefan Zweig [newly translated by Anthea Bell]. I also read yesterday from these books, "Poets In Their Youth" A Memoir by Eileen Simpson and "The Image, or What Happened to the American Dream" by Daniel J. Boorstin.

Last night I mainly read "The World of Yesterday" by Zweig till I went to bed around 11 o'clock PM. I got up this morning around 6:30 AM. When I got up I made a pot of coffee and then messed with our main computer. After messing with our main computer I wrote in my paper diary and then fed the birds. After feeding the birds I messed with our lawn mower. I have to mow our lawn today.

Carol is having breakfast this morning with family members. So when she gets out of work this morning she will drive to north Holland and eat with members of her family. I cooked myself breakfast this morning after writing in my diary.

I do not know what else to report. Last night before Carol went to work I was telling her that lately I find life around me to be creepy. What I mean by life being creepy is that it All seems so empty, shallow, plastic, phony, no substance due to sin and disgusting. I find it difficult some days to even look around me due to how imperfect everything is. I live in a ugly fallen world and yet I am to keep close to the Lord Jesus Christ. I need to pray. I need divine grace to keep smelling the smell of an old dog.

Well I will close to wait it out. There is no way of escape. Trapped.
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