I became insane with long intervals of horrible sanity.
The trouble with fighting for human freedom is that one spends most of one's time defending scoundrels. For it is against scoundrels that oppressive laws are first aimed, and oppression must be stopped at the beginning if it is to be stopped at all.
Many people would sooner die than think; In fact, they do so
What I have been telling you, from alpha to omega, what is the one great thing the sigil taught me — that everything in life is miraculous. For the sigil taught me that it rests within the power of each of us to awaken at will from a dragging nightmare of life made up of unimportant tasks and tedious useless little habits, to see life as it really is, and to rejoice in its exquisite wonderfulness. If the sigil were proved to be the top of a tomato-can, it would not alter that big fact, nor my fixed faith. No Harrowby, the common names we call things by do not matter — except to show how very dull we are ...
January 06, 2014 - 12:02 p.m.
OK time to start writing. I hate that I think that a 3:30 therapy appointment is early and a need to rush in the morning.
Last night I was trying to decide which of many things to write about and now I'm stuck. I can't go the safe way and write about what I did. I did nothing. I never even took the nasal strip I sleep with off. I didn't read and I didn't talk to anyone. The not talking to anyone is happening to frequently. In the last week I have had just one extended conversation with anyone. Is that right? Well not quite. I talked to someone exactly a week ago. I went to parties but that's different. You have fragments of conversations at parties. This will end tomorrow as I'm visiting LORi and Steve and not coming home till Friday. I love that this is an extended visit with nothing planned. I'm there to spend time with friends and that's it. I'd like to do that more here.
What did I do positive yesterday. I made French toast. I had soup for dinner. Yes what I did positive was cook and eat, basic necessities. Now I'm getting down on myself and I shouldn't. I like the person I see in the mirror. I see his flaws but we all have flaws. OK I guess I'm moving that way. This entry like The Lord of the Rings will grow in the telling.
Thirteen years ago Carey wrote an edition of Wise Madness, a goovie guest appearance. I still think about that when I'm down. It ends:
In my favorite VU song, "I'll Be Your Mirror," Nico sings about being able to show someone their true reflection and what a beautiful person they really are. Thank you, Gordon, for being my wonderful batnose mirror. As you tell me every day (tho I'm too tired right now to add the fancy fonts and colors), I love you. :)
She is of course being my mirror there. This reminds me that I can be loved. There are times I forget that. But that's not my point. My point is flaws and perceptions. We all need people that can see the "real" us without the flaws. It's like people that can look at a car with dings and scratches but can see what it would look like if they were all fixed and it was washed and polished. We all live two lives, the one everyone sees and the intended edition, the one without the wear and tear of actually existing. There are people that I look at and see the intended edition. The flaws are on the surface and can be buffed and polished away. Are there people that can see mine?
Since I watched Cyrano I have been thinking of him and Jurgen. They are two of my literary heroes. Jurgen made a bargain with Mother Sereda, the goddess of Wednesdays, of bleaching, of mediocrity. He thought he got the better of her when he left the deal with his youth,. He had been a middle aged pawn broker of 40 and some years with a paunch. He was once again a young man in his prime who gained the love of many women including goddesses and Satan's wife. Helen was his for the taking but he refused to lift the coverlet. He descended in hell and ascended to heaven. But it was all without joy because wherever he went he was followed not by his shadow but Mother Sereda's. And she whispered to him that he was nothing. That all he did was meaningless.
Cyrano lived a life of poverty. His love was unrequited. But the one thing he never doubted was his own worth.
CYRANO �Let be! Yet I fall fighting, fighting still!
(He makes passes in the air, and stops, breathless):
You strip from me the laurel and the rose!
Take all! Despite you there is yet one thing
I hold against you all, and when, to-night,
I enter Christ's fair courts, and, lowly bowed,
Sweep with doffed casque the heavens' threshold blue,
One thing is left, that, void of stain or smutch,
I bear away despite you.(He springs forward, his sword raised; it falls from his hand; he staggers, falls back into the arms of Le Bret and Ragueneau.)
ROXANE (bending and kissing his forehead):
'Tis?. . .CYRANO (opening his eyes, recognizing her, and smiling):
MY PANACHE.
I have always identified with both Jurgen and Cyrano. They are both poets. When I have my doubts it's more for other people's perceptions of me and rarely of my intended edition. When I fail, I fail today but hope for better tomorrow.
I have had this entry in my head for weeks and restrained from writing it. But it demanded to be written today and who am I to deny the muse?
Part of why I can write it now is that I'm feeling better. I'm not good, but better. For good I need some changes beyond my control or more time. With time I always get better. I had a hacking cough due to post-nasal drip for over a year. I told a friend who recommended the pseudo-science that she thinks makes everything better. I explained that so many things, including post-nasal drip get better on their own. This was my second bought like that, the first was 30 years ago, It's so easy to ascribe the cure to whatever you happened to do but it's just time. The same is true of so many things that go on in our heads. Not everything of course. The anxiety does not go away on its own,
Oh and that reminds me of something I've been meaning to write for weeks. One of my favorite Seinfeld moments that I quote a lot is when George says, "Paying for parking is like going to a prostitute. You pay for something you can get for free if you are willing to put in the time and effort." I sometimes feel that way about therapy. Not always but often I spend time telling her things that I'd much rather be saying to a friend, someone who loves me, not someone who is listening because he's being paid. My second choice would be to say it here. If I could write so nobody knew who I was talking about, especially the people I was talking about, I'd do that all the time. Some of my best material is things that I can't share with you. I told my shrink that she gets to hear some of my A material that you don't.
Wow as usual it's later than I want it to be. I have to make breakfast. What's on the menu today, poached eggs. I will likely update on the bus tomorrow. If so it will be in the afternoon. If I can get it together I'll post before I leave.
The intended edition of this was much better.
I signed the Pro-Truth Pledge:
please hold me accountable.
Memories: Not that Horrid Song - May 29, 2018
Wise Madness is Now In Session - May 28, 2018
The NFL and the First Amendment - May 27, 2018
On The Road Again - May 26, 2018
Oliver the Three-Eyed Crow - May 25, 2018
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Horvendile January 06, 2014
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