Sep. 5th, 2013

monk111: (Effulgent Days)
Now I wake up early. There's no thought about taking a walk, though, not after taking a full-on shower last night. It was a five o'clock morning, in fact. I puddled around in bed until seven, without a minute's sleep, just lying there, occasionally tossing and turning.

It seems darker at seven, and I noticed that it is already quite dark at eight in the evening. Since I haven't mowed in a few weeks, I failed to notice the changing of the seasonal light. It does feel autumnal again. Maybe it's for real this time. But we are talking about temperatures around 95 degrees, which I count as a significant drop from 100-degree days, but it's still hot enough for me. I am, however, going to let the cats stay out.
monk111: (Default)
As I read through more of Sylvia Plath's journals, trying to decide what to blog, it occurs to me that I might be better off not blogging it. It would save me a lot of arguably pointless typing. I must be copying about 95% of her entries. Would it not be better just to count on reading the book itself? It might be one thing if others were responding to my efforts, but it looks like I am doing all this typing just for myself.

This is what I will do. I will read the journals in the established rotation, but I will only blog the absolute stellar lines, or the most charming or striking entries. I will definitely keep Sylvia in my reading life, but I will just read the book itself over and over.

Of course, it may be that her journal gets less precious later. We will just continue to play it as we find it, and improvise.

I guess this is what I get for blogging a book that I have not already read. I did not think that so much of it would be so quote-worthy.

Coco

Sep. 5th, 2013 11:42 am
monk111: (Cats)
We are coming fast upon the noon hour and I have yet to see Coco today. I'm a little worried. She is always hungry in the morning.

Pessoa

Sep. 5th, 2013 04:27 pm
monk111: (Default)
Fernando Pessoa writes on the emptiness of the stagnant and spiritless life, a life in which even meaningful thought seems beyond one’s reach, a life of just walking around and watching life happen around one, no love, no friends, no hope. He writes, “It’s a sickness with no hope of recovery. It’s a lively death.”

[Fernando Pessoa, “The Book of Disquiet”]
monk111: (DarkSide: by spiraling_down)
“Even though we’re a superpower, we haven’t figured out yet we don’t actually have super-powers.”

-- Jon Stewart, The Daily Show

I blame all the Hollywood blockbusters. Mr. Stewart is shining his light on the big geo-political issue of the day.

The debate over whether to bomb Syria for its use of chemical weapons is raging in Congress and across the country. Actually, about 90% of the country has taken its lesson from what George Will calls our “feasts of failure” over the last decade in Iraq and Afghanistan, and they don’t want anything to do with Syria. However, although this public sentiment is being felt on the Hill, the expectation is that there will be a term of bombing.
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