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 ...
April 30, 2016 - 1:21 p.m.
I'm back from despair. It's hard for me to stay there, it's not a nice neighborhood. It looks like I'll have a roof over my head. It's not a convenient roof, it's out in the burbs beyond the land Civilization Aka the Subway System, but it's with people that love me and it's a lot dryer than the streets. I could fight and stay where I am but it's not fair to my landlady who is risking losing her house. She's been very good and patient with me.
So now we'll leave the serious stuff for a while. I find that I can't get myself to go out to everything I want to. I'm missing a show I'd love tonight because there's anxiety on the horizon? Why? I don't know but there is. I made it out last night to see Rachel "I love you very much but you really need a website" Trachtenburg's new band, Wooing. I kept missing them. The first time they played it was opening for a band I loved and really wanted to see? Who? I have no idea. But last night I made it out to the Cake Shop in the Lower East Side. It's not a bakery though it was when I started going there for snacks after shows at the Living Room. Now it's a bar with a music venue in the basement. It was my first time downstairs. It was my first time there since they stopped serving cake
I got there a little before show time, Rachel was just heading downstairs. Her father Jason there too. They were the only ones I knew at the show. Oddly that's part of what kept the anxiety down.
Jason and I took sets near the front but the first sound of the guitar drove us away. My right here, the one closer to the speaker, still hurts a bit. When I stood in the middle of the room though still close it was not particularly loud at all. I'm pretty sure that I was more than twice the age of anyone else in the audience other than Jason. That doesn't make me feel uncomfortable, it amuses me.
Wooing
Rachel's music is an extension of Rachel; I love it for the same reason I love her. You know I can't resist brilliant combined with weird. And this isn't show weird, it's just not being afraid of being herself. You probably aren't going to find too many 22-year-olds covering the Zombies or loving early Pink Floyd. Those are before her father's time. I don't know where she got it from. There should have been a sixties movie about her and the band.
Rachel
If you were to draw a caricature of Rachel you'd make sure to show her huge eyes. So of course they are closed in all the pics.
I did have my usual complaint, I couldn't make out most of the lyrics and I know enough to know that they are worth hearing. The songs have content.
After the show I said goodbye to Rachel and Jason and headed home. My bag of potatoes somehow disappeared so on the way home I picked up plantains and cooked them as soon as I got home. I had hot dogs before I left. That's a long time between courses.
What's going on inside me has so many layers that I get lost. I'm not a passive person but I'm acting passively when it's vital that I take action. It gets difficult to get up to make food or even just eat food that's already prepared. So much of it is the anxiety. Right now I'm not reading a message from one of my favorite people in the world, someone I love and know loves me. But I expect it to say things very much like I'm writing here and the thought of that makes me feel awful. So I put it off. I have two emails from someone trying to help me. I can't read those either. The thing is if I still had my job I'd be happily preparing my finals. OK I wouldn't be happy about it but I'd be doing it, I'd be doing a great job of it, and I'd be proud of the job I did.
Are there self-esteem issues? I admitted things I didn't want to admit to the person that's going to put me up. I told her how hard it was to say it She suggested that I was ashamed. I don't know if that's it. She's such a good friend that I shouldn't be ashamed. It's not like it's about me doing something morally wrong. That is the only thing to be ashamed of. I know that to my bones. But still maybe I am. I'm now admitting all of these things to the world. Why? Because not writing about things important to me creates anxiety. It's why I have written at times of what's happened with other people when discretion says I shouldn't. I have a friend that thought I was trying to make her feel guilty. I wasn't. I was trying to not do that. But I felt the need to express my sadness. I feel better when I do that. I feel better now writing this. So now I'm going to steel myself with bacon, eggs, and coffee and try to get things done and not just watch Game of Thrones. I need to be in Brooklyn for the most part. It's OK to take an excursion to Westeros as long as I don't live there.
"What do we say to death (or despair)?"
"Not today."
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 30, 2016
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