Crooked Finger (crookedfingers) wrote,
Crooked Finger

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a capitalist world that manufactures a warped “mass-man”

It is in the death flow 8:21 AM Tuesday morning. I am not fully awake since I never fully fell asleep. I tossed and turned all night. My body is full of tension. I need to exercise this old man body before I become unable to move.

I got up this morning around 6:11 AM. I got up to face it dark outside. I got coffee and oatmeal ready to make when Carol would get up. She left this morning around 8:05 AM for a class at the hospital and then to visit family members. Also she plans to visit our local library before coming home.

So I got up got stuff to make for breakfast, warmed myself up a cup of coffee and toasted myself a raisin muffin. I then messed with our main computer and then when Carol got up I made coffee and oatmeal for a morning meal. I am always amazed that we have coffee and oatmeal because millions and millions of people in this world have nothing to eat or to drink. I am amazed I can sit here writing this shit to the music of Mogwai while millions and millions of people are in slavery. It does not make sense to my Christian world and life view. It all seems absurd.

I have no plans for the day ahead of me. Carol asked me this morning if I wanted to do anything today? I said No. Why do anything when the world is in pain.

Yesterday I do not know if I mentioned I did visit local thrift stores I found three used books to add to our library.

'Forgiveness Of Sin: A Practical Exposition Of Psalm 130' by John Owen (1616-1683)

'The Summer He Didn't Die' three novella's by Jim Harrison

'The Romanovs: The Final Chapter' Russian History by Robert K. Massie

Last night I watched PBS Masterpiece Theater with my wife. I read before going to bed from these two books-

'About Schmidt' a novel by Louis Begley

'The Book of Disquiet' Complete Edition by Fernando Pessoa

I also read yesterday when not waiting for it all to come to a glorious conclusion these books-

'The Decameron' by Giovanni Boccaccio

'Isaiah Berlin: A Life' by Michael Ignatieff

Well I suppose I will close to go fed our birds. What can I do but weep.

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