Solvent
Half of the time I'm in my 'wolfs lair' but tonight I will go up into my 'eagles nest'... its a sort of garret, where I watch the tube sometimes, and look down upon the park below. I found some monster flick from the 40's in the thrift store this morning....driving in the hard rain...lets see, Albert Camus 1942 "The Stranger"...now that's an odd yet great book- the main character never thinks, never retrospects...he has no goal. Those around him desperately want him to show remorse for his crime, but he just is. He is a blank slate of sorts, a 20th century everyman...Camus wants us to learn that life has no meaning, that it is absurd. After we reach a certain point, then I guess that itself becomes our meaning? No matter how hard we look, no matter how hard we struggle....we imagine that its all suppose to add up to something...should we just 'Be'? Are we worrying too much? Do we make artificial demands upon ourselves? A short story by Ray Bradbury put it well.... the title escapes me just now...
Last week I was on my porch-after midnight some girls and a guy burst out of the bar a block from me. In front of the park, the girls opened the iron gate and went in. They relieved themselves in front of me- (between the porch and the low wall there is only 35 feet, and the Moon was shining bright)...I thought they might be drunk, but they did not carry on the way youngsters do when intoxicated- the girls did not show any concern that they might be observed, half waving at me as they took care of business...If they cared about my opinion, then that would have made the action bad. Since they did not care, they did nothing improper.
I hurt my arm about four months ago. Around the elbow... for weeks I could not even move it. Muscle rubs did not help...I ended up getting some special industrial solvent to use for the soreness. The stuff burns. It scalds the skin, leaving a rude welt, but finally the ripped muscle has healed.
Up into my tower I will go- cracking open a tin of Octopus meat in olive oil. Do you find that strange? Most Americans are very provincial in their food selections-with their burgers and fries and shakes...Most Americans wont eat anchovies either. But I think this is changing- we are becoming a little bit more cosmopolitan, in certain sectors.
Did the Buddha really discover a peculiar bliss? Or did he merely tire of it all, and adopt the dignified repose that we associate with the southern planter on his veranda, sipping a mint julip, gazing into the far off treeline as the red sun melts into a kindly dusk? Is the quest a trick? Am I already in Nirvana, as i watch the creature dart toward his doom on the TV screen, as i witness the telling of a story when scripts were still good and craftsmanship in film gave us a window into the world as it might be?
The Hummus is especially tasty...I think its time for some wine.
'Naturally' is the way I am....I am naturally involved with bliss, but is it peculiar, or from this plane? Do you know what I'm talking about? Do we need to read it in a book, a spiritual manual, do we need a guide, a guru, a prayer that must be sung just the right way to be effective, as the ancient vedic practitioners claimed? Who told the original guide? where does this 'stuff' come from? What is the source-God?
I need a mint julip, but will settle a for a shot of vodka.
Last week I was on my porch-after midnight some girls and a guy burst out of the bar a block from me. In front of the park, the girls opened the iron gate and went in. They relieved themselves in front of me- (between the porch and the low wall there is only 35 feet, and the Moon was shining bright)...I thought they might be drunk, but they did not carry on the way youngsters do when intoxicated- the girls did not show any concern that they might be observed, half waving at me as they took care of business...If they cared about my opinion, then that would have made the action bad. Since they did not care, they did nothing improper.
I hurt my arm about four months ago. Around the elbow... for weeks I could not even move it. Muscle rubs did not help...I ended up getting some special industrial solvent to use for the soreness. The stuff burns. It scalds the skin, leaving a rude welt, but finally the ripped muscle has healed.
Up into my tower I will go- cracking open a tin of Octopus meat in olive oil. Do you find that strange? Most Americans are very provincial in their food selections-with their burgers and fries and shakes...Most Americans wont eat anchovies either. But I think this is changing- we are becoming a little bit more cosmopolitan, in certain sectors.
Did the Buddha really discover a peculiar bliss? Or did he merely tire of it all, and adopt the dignified repose that we associate with the southern planter on his veranda, sipping a mint julip, gazing into the far off treeline as the red sun melts into a kindly dusk? Is the quest a trick? Am I already in Nirvana, as i watch the creature dart toward his doom on the TV screen, as i witness the telling of a story when scripts were still good and craftsmanship in film gave us a window into the world as it might be?
The Hummus is especially tasty...I think its time for some wine.
'Naturally' is the way I am....I am naturally involved with bliss, but is it peculiar, or from this plane? Do you know what I'm talking about? Do we need to read it in a book, a spiritual manual, do we need a guide, a guru, a prayer that must be sung just the right way to be effective, as the ancient vedic practitioners claimed? Who told the original guide? where does this 'stuff' come from? What is the source-God?
I need a mint julip, but will settle a for a shot of vodka.
posted by Zero at 10:18 AM
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