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

April 25, 2017 - 11:26 a.m.

Delay, Death, Song, and Poem

Remember how yesterday I said I should be a saint? After writing that I went out and proved it. I made a Trader Joe's run yesterday. Sure it's an hour and a half away but it's Trader Joe's and it's pretty easy to get to and I got bagels while I was in the neighborhood. The trip there was extra easy. I timed the bus right and then had a short wait for the subway and no wait when I switched to the express. The express even skipped a stop because there was an investigation at 59th street. I zoomed.

I had a nice interaction with the woman ordering before me at Bagel Bob's. She had a baby strapped to her chest. The baby was facing forward. She counted the money out then held it right in front of the baby. From where I was standing it looked like the baby was handling the money. I told her that. She said her daughter would love to. We had a moment. The daughter and I had a moment too.

The ride home is where I earned my sainthood. The platform was packed. There was an announcement that because of an investigation at 59th street the 4 and 5 trains were running local after 42nd street. The next train coming was the 6, the local I transfer to. Some run express in the Bronx and this one did. So not too bad. I got on and even got a seat. Before the train got to the first station it stopped. It stayed stopped. There was announcement that there were major delays because of the investigation at 59th street. The two minutes it saved me going down were made up with usurious interest. Three express trains passed us. That was the story of the trip. We moved in stops and starts right up to 125th street. Then when we got to the Bronx it was announced that the train was going to run local. It still moved in stops and starts. At Hunts Point an express pulled in right before we left and I transferred over to that. I even got a seat. The train was packed but for some reason nobody was taking one seat. I did. The trip that would normally take about an hour and twenty minutes took two hours and forty minutes. Why am I a saint? I didn't kill anyone. Not only that but in the 7 minutes I had before the bus came I ran and picked up Fancy Feast for the cats.

When I got home I told Jane that not only am I a saint but they should build a statue of me. She said that not killing anyone is not grounds for sainthood. Nonsense. Under those circumstances, it is. On one of Dar's visits to Tibet she told her lama that she had not been a good Buddhist. The lama asked, "Did you kill anyone?" She said, "No." The lama replied, "Then you are a good Buddhist." If that's good enough for that lama it should be good enough for the pope.

That was all a lot funnier until I found out what that investigation was about. A group of young men held up a store and when the cops came ran into the subway. One of the jumped on the tracks, hit the third rail and was electrocuted.

I have to make plans to go back to WFDU and record my shows with Brian. Before I do that I want to finish compiling the songs for the second show. People have been raving about Carrie Elkin's new album Penny Collector. I want to play something from it on the show. I had hoped to get my copy when she did John Platt's On Your Radar but that was the Seder night. Yesterday I finally got up the nerve to ask her to send me a digital copy. She of course said yes and sent it to me. I've listened to it twice. This is the song I'm going to play.

Pretty darn skippy.

I was going to write about politics but I have to feel the fire in my eyes when I do that. Instead I'm going to keep today's entry short. I thought of an idea for a poem yesterday and even took some notes. It's national poetry month. I should write one before the month is over. I'll post it here if I finish it to my satisfaction. Years ago I would end every entry with a poem. I think I'll do that today. I just have to decide which one. Ah, just the thing, a poem by a great poet about a great poet.

On Visiting The Tomb Of Burns - by John Keats

The town, the churchyard, and the setting sun,
The clouds, the trees, the rounded hills all seem,
Though beautiful, cold- strange- as in a dream
I dreamed long ago, now new begun.
The short-liv'd, paly summer is but won
From winter's ague for one hour's gleam;
Through sapphire warm their stars do never beam:
All is cold Beauty; pain is never done.
For who has mind to relish, Minos-wise,
The real of Beauty, free from that dead hue
Sickly imagination and sick pride
Cast wan upon it? Burns! with honour due
I oft have honour'd thee. Great shadow, hide
Thy face; I sin against thy native skies.

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 April 25, 2017
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