I became insane with long intervals of horrible sanity.
Edgar Allen Poe

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.
- H. L. Mencken

Many people would sooner die than think; In fact, they do so
-Bertrand Russell

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 ...
-James Branch Cabell

February 01, 2018 - 10:38 a.m.

Brevity is the Soul of Wit

I have been going out less frequently of late; it's relaxing but provides less grist for the blogging mill. Do I go out just to have something to write about? Is the tail wagging the dog? I don't think so, but I'll monitor the situation. You have to respect your ability to deceive yourself. That's a topic I'm going to dedicate an entry to. Not today, it needs some research.

I put myself out there yesterday, risked facing rejection twice. I was rejected twice. One of them might mean nothing, just a matter of availability, the other was personal. It would be better for my psyche if I concentrate on that I took the emotional risk and not the results. It's much easier to intellectualize than internalize. There are so many layers to this. There's what I did, my reaction to what I did, my reaction to the reaction, and so on ad infinitum. I often wonder if everyone is like that but most people don't talk about it. The odds are that everyone is but that the extent varies. We are not equally introspective. Today's goal is to put myself out there again. There's a friend that I haven't talked to in ages, someone important to me, I'll call her.

I'm not going to force myself to write more today. This is what I got. I don't want writing this to be a chore. You made the effort to come here and read so I'll go back to an old tradition, ending with a poem. Emily Dickinson always connects. I'll find one of hers.

The Loneliness One dare not sound-
And would as soon surmise
As in its Grave go plumbing
To ascertain the size-

The Loneliness whose worst alarm
Is lest itself should see-
And perish from before itself
For just a scrutiny-

The Horror not to be surveyed-
But skirted in the Dark-
With Consciousness suspended-
And Being under Lock-

I fear me this-is Loneliness-
The Maker of the soul
Its Caverns and its Corridors
Illuminate-or seal-

I signed the Pro-Truth Pledge:
please hold me accountable.

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