a quarter after what an unearthly hour I suppose theyre just getting up in China now combing out their pigtails for the day well soon have the nuns ringing the angelus theyve nobody coming in to spoil their sleep except an odd priest or two for his night office the alarmclock next door at cockshout clattering the brains out of itself let me see if I can doze off 1 2 3 4 5 what kind of flowers are those they invented like the stars the wallpaper in Lombard street was much nicer the apron he gave me was like that something only I only wore it twice better lower this lamp and try again so that I can get up early... (p. 642)
Well, that's enough of that.
Today's post will contain a little bit of this and a little bit of that.
Okay, here goes.
I don't know why I continue to bother to try to blog when I have nothing whatever of
I guess it all boils down to Bloggo, ergo sum (thank you, Descartes).
For those of you who didn't take Latin, it means "I blog, therefore I am." It is as simple as that, and as complicated.
Nevertheless, I plod on valiantly to fill the ether with blather that can be traced directly to me, so that extra-terrestrials finding these words ages and ages hence (thank you, Robert Frost) will know that while it may not necessarily be true that I came, saw, or conquered (thank you, Julius Caesar), it will be irrefutable that I did at one time, someplace, somewhere, actually exist. Looking at it from their perspective, I blogged, therefore I was, which is so much better than their having to use the past imperfect conditional (I think I just made that up), as in if he had blogged, he would have been.
Immortality. To be remembered. To be not just remembered but celebrated. To have counted. To have mattered. I think that is all any of us really want, and it is something hardly any of us will get. After only a generation or two, perhaps, of being fondly remembered by our own descendants, no one will recall the sound of our voice, how we parted our hair (if we had any hair), what toothpaste or deodorant or cereal we bought, what we believed in our heart of hearts. Like all the others except for a very precious few, we will become non-entities, as anonymous as those rows and rows of skulls found under the streets of Paris.
Speaking of perspective, I need my morning coffee. This is getting too depressing.
There, that's better.
The Psalms are always a good way to start the day. I will read a couple. Psalm 30. Psalm 118. Psalm 23.
I almost forgot. Today is Good Friday. Things may look bleak, but Easter is just around the corner. There is hope.
Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning (thank you, Psalm 30).