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

December 01, 2013 - 12:10 p.m.

An Unexpected Party ... or not

Has anyone seen my life? I must have left it somewhere. I'm certainly not living it. I can't remember the last time I heard live music.

So here's the tale of Saturday. As I was updating here I got an invitation to party! I don't get invitations for parties. It was from Evan. You don't remember Evan but I sublet his apartment in Spanish Harlem for a few weeks last June. He's a musician. He owns a clavichord. He can play the clavichord. He plays Bach and neuromusic. I'm pretty sure that Bach was neuromusic at the time.

The party was at nine and I had all day with nothing to do and still managed to run late. I didn't know what to do for dinner and ended up being rushed so I went to Shake Shack in Brooklyn as it's right on the way. I hopped off the , ate, then hopped back on it. I got a regular burger not a shackburger because it was a dollar cheaper and that seemed like a lot for a slice of cheese and some sauce. Now I'm not sure it' the same meat. It wasn't very good.

I didn't realized when he asked me but the party was at Evan's apartment, where I lived. I felt stupid asking where it was. I could get there in my sleep. I was awake and as the first time I went there I heard Evan's piano from the street. I got there and was surprised to find just a few people there. I was a half an hour late. it seems the party was rolled back two hours to 11. I hung out for a bit with Evan and Kathryn. I told her I'd remember her name as she's another Kath. The bell rang and it was Andrea, Evan's neighbor who I met when I lived there. She's the one that helped me when I got locked in because the door knob broke. I then figured I'd go to midtown and look at store windows and maybe come back. the thing is a party that starts at 11 is late when it would take me more than an hour to get home. I ended up just going home. I fell asleep on the ride. That doesn't mean I made the right decision. If I were stimulated by the party I'd have been more awake. Part of the problem is ennui. I have been stagnant other than on Thanksgiving.

As for my mental health I'm doing somewhat better. There's a situation that I don't know what's going on and I decided to just proceed as if things were going well. It's like Schrdinger's cat, neither dead nor alive till the box is opened and the wave equation collapses. I can't open the box yet so I'll just think of the cat as being alive.

I think what I did was overcome anxiety so I could see the truth. But it could be that I'm believing a falsehood to relieve anxiety. I don't think most people's minds work like that. It looks to me that people routinely believe whatever it is that makes them comfortable

I often find myself trying to think like other people. What's going through the mind of someone who believes in things diametrically opposed to my beliefs? I'm not going to figure out Adam Lanza, the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooter but I did try and put myself in his mother's shoe's. Read this, Chilling Look at Newtown Killer, but No Why. People can't understand how she could buy her son guns,. As horrifying as it was I can see immediately. The key is in the story;

Mr. Lanza refused to speak even to his mother, communicating with her only by email, even though their bedrooms shared the same floor of their house on Yogananda Street.

No one else was allowed into his room, including his mother, who nevertheless did her sons laundry daily because he changed his clothes often.

Among their few outings together were trips to the shooting range. She planned to buy him a gun for Christmas last year.

Guns were the one way should emotionally connect with her son. That blinded her to the danger. We all do stupid things when we are desperate, especially for love. It's too easy to say, "he's troubled but not dangerous." It's hard to believe things like that of people we actually know. I have heard people say that. When people say they can't understand his mother they are fooling themselves. I can put myself in their shoes too,.

When I'm thinking of telling someone something, when I'm thinking of writing here, I try and see how the listener or reader will react to it. I'm doing that right now as I write this paragraph. Does everyone do this? I know some people talk and write as if they don't. but maybe they are just not good at it Or maybe the imp of the perverse takes over., That's the compulsion to do things that you know are wrong. I know I feel it strongly when I'm stressed. I've gotten better at controlling it.

One thing about Facebook is that I see friends saying things that make me think, "I'm not from the same planet am I?" It happens in real life too but you don't get the volume you get online. And these are friends whose brain I can't wrap my brain around. What are strangers like?

I have plans to meet a friend today. That's good. When was the last time I had one on one time with a friend. I can't remember that either. Group situations are different. No wonder I've been feeling angst. No music and no time with a friend.

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 December 01, 2013
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