Crooked Finger (crookedfingers) wrote,
Crooked Finger
crookedfingers

  • Mood:
  • Music:

archaic man finds no meaning in himself apart from the cosmos he inhabits

It is 9:42 AM Tuesday morning in the flow of It. The eternal It is flowing inside It. It is a hot sunny morning here by Lake Michigan. We still have our central air system on so our cave is cool. One thing about closing up the house is that one smells the aroma of old dog and rug rot. I comfort myself by saying to myself we live like old hippies out in the woods of Northern California. We are too poor for wood floors and we could never get rid of our dog Rudy. In heaven we will smell the fruits of an everlasting Eden.

I got up this morning around 7:50 AM. When I got up I made a pot of coffee and did some wash. I had to put Rudy's bed in the wash because he had an accident during the night.

Carol got home from work around 8:25 AM and has gone to bed for the day.

I have been messing with our main computer this morning. I have not gotten around to writing in my paper diary yet.

Last night I watched television and went to bed around 11:05 PM. Now it is another day in the American Empire.

I am in one of those states where my brain won't function. I am stuffed and my brain refuses to let in any more stuff into it. So I am at a lost. My wife tells me I need a hobby. My hobby is writing Everything down or at least making an effort to write some of It down. I just have to wait out this state of mental collapse. In time everything will be open for business once again. What I do when my mind refuses to function is sit in contemplative silence.

When my birthday comes around (August 14) I find myself remembering my Past. The Lord has been good to us.

Well I will close to wait it out.

Windmill Island
Subscribe

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 0 comments