A day like other days, though more challenging with its swirling braided countenance of things grim and hopeful. What does a man do to get himself clear, to feel that he has better days ahead? Well, he interrupts as many self-defeating thoughts as he can scoop in his net and replaces them with ones that humor and excite him. And then he leaves work and picks up Ram Dass' Be Love Now to be read from later. Then he makes a salad with everything he can think of that will blast him with clarity and make stout his will. All the while a mantra of Fuck You! is broadcast by various senses. Not Fuck You to himself, not Fuck You to his fellow man. No, it is all the way Fuck You to everything that holds him back, that would see him shackled to fear. He eats and feels his blood come alive. He listens to Mazzy Star. He will meditate and feel loved. The day will end a victory.
--
Met Sarah for drinks last night at The Independent. Our first time hanging out one on one. We have quite a bit in common; there were no awkward silences. The conversation flowed past the shores of Werner Herzog, the shitty-ness of jam bands, people with fractured mental landscapes. Ever since we've met, our paths have crossed in ways that have felt vaguely and elusively meaningful, as if scripted by a different hand. Perhaps.
Tomorrow I will visit my parents after work. A home cooked meal I'll get and my mother will send me home with leftovers and dessert. I feel lousy about using one their cars and almost don't want to see them face to face, lest I collapse into a puddle of shame under their accusing eyes. No, that's not the way of it. I'm looking forward to seeing them.
And I'm looking forward to ending this post and end it I shall.
Stay gold, Pony Boy.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Thursday, March 22, 2012
I see your hair is burning
What a glorious day! Really, Kevin, glorious? Sure, even when you take into consideration that I didn't get a massage, have profound tantric sex, go down a bitchin' water slide, or eat a warm and buttery piece of fried dough. The weather was magnificent, the creatures of nature came alive as if it were mid-June. Had a satisfying day at work. Read from Autobiography Of A Yogi at work and plan on doing some more later. Yup, today - heck, I'd say the last several days - have been quite alright.
The section from Autobiography Of A Yogi that I read about today concerned The Tiger Swami. In his youth, Paramhansa Yogananda and a friend visited him hoping to hear tales of his legendary battles with tigers. It had been said that his prowess was due to his strong build and enormous will.
When they arrived at his home, a servant let them in and they were led into The Tiger Swami's bedroom, where he was sitting on his bed clad only in a tiger skin loincloth. The youths, barely able to contain themselves, pressed him about his former life as tiger fighter.
"My sons, it is nothing to me to fight tigers", he said. "You look upon tigers as tigers; I know them as pussycats". He then stressed the overarching importance of the mind over physical force.
"Mind is the wielder of muscles. The force of the hammer blow depends on the energy applied; the power expressed by a man's bodily instrument depends on his aggressive will and courage. The body is literally manufactured and sustained by mind.
"Outward frailty has mental origin; in a vicious circle, the habit-bound body thwarts the mind. If the master allows himself to be commanded by a servant, the latter becomes autocratic; the mind is similarly enslaved by submitting to bodily dictation."
His father believed it was wrong what his son was doing and begged him to cease fighting. The swami was stubborn and refused in youthful arrogance. As a last resort, his father reluctantly told him that a Yogi had once intimated to him that his son would be mauled if he fought again. And that it would take him six months to heal. Once he was mended, he would devote his life to spiritual pursuits.
Even though it was unwise to not heed the word of a Yogi, the swami refused to listen. Not long after, while visiting a nearby city, he was instantly recognized on the streets. The prince caught wind of his presence and had him summoned to the palace, where he called upon the swami to fight his prized Bengal tiger. If he won, he would be showered with riches. If he lost, he would be ridiculed and shamed for the rest of his days.
The swami accepted the prince's offer and walked over to the tiger, who had not been fed in days. He would be hungry for blood. At once he lunged at the swami and mangled his hand.. The swami managed to fight back and battered the tiger with his good hand. A fierce battle ensued until finally the swami was able to knock the tiger unconscious. Or so he thought. As he was leaving the cage, the tiger attacked him from behind. Fortunately for the swami, he was able to deliver one final blow that put the tiger to sleep. He left the palace, his reputation intact.
The Yogi's prophecy came to pass, though, and the swami, suffering from his infected wounds, staved off death for six months. When he recovered, he sought out the Yogi and began his spiritual quest.
And I'm going to continue mine and meditate.
Peace.
The section from Autobiography Of A Yogi that I read about today concerned The Tiger Swami. In his youth, Paramhansa Yogananda and a friend visited him hoping to hear tales of his legendary battles with tigers. It had been said that his prowess was due to his strong build and enormous will.
When they arrived at his home, a servant let them in and they were led into The Tiger Swami's bedroom, where he was sitting on his bed clad only in a tiger skin loincloth. The youths, barely able to contain themselves, pressed him about his former life as tiger fighter.
"My sons, it is nothing to me to fight tigers", he said. "You look upon tigers as tigers; I know them as pussycats". He then stressed the overarching importance of the mind over physical force.
"Mind is the wielder of muscles. The force of the hammer blow depends on the energy applied; the power expressed by a man's bodily instrument depends on his aggressive will and courage. The body is literally manufactured and sustained by mind.
"Outward frailty has mental origin; in a vicious circle, the habit-bound body thwarts the mind. If the master allows himself to be commanded by a servant, the latter becomes autocratic; the mind is similarly enslaved by submitting to bodily dictation."
His father believed it was wrong what his son was doing and begged him to cease fighting. The swami was stubborn and refused in youthful arrogance. As a last resort, his father reluctantly told him that a Yogi had once intimated to him that his son would be mauled if he fought again. And that it would take him six months to heal. Once he was mended, he would devote his life to spiritual pursuits.
Even though it was unwise to not heed the word of a Yogi, the swami refused to listen. Not long after, while visiting a nearby city, he was instantly recognized on the streets. The prince caught wind of his presence and had him summoned to the palace, where he called upon the swami to fight his prized Bengal tiger. If he won, he would be showered with riches. If he lost, he would be ridiculed and shamed for the rest of his days.
The swami accepted the prince's offer and walked over to the tiger, who had not been fed in days. He would be hungry for blood. At once he lunged at the swami and mangled his hand.. The swami managed to fight back and battered the tiger with his good hand. A fierce battle ensued until finally the swami was able to knock the tiger unconscious. Or so he thought. As he was leaving the cage, the tiger attacked him from behind. Fortunately for the swami, he was able to deliver one final blow that put the tiger to sleep. He left the palace, his reputation intact.
The Yogi's prophecy came to pass, though, and the swami, suffering from his infected wounds, staved off death for six months. When he recovered, he sought out the Yogi and began his spiritual quest.
And I'm going to continue mine and meditate.
Peace.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
How many six packs does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Not so long ago, I used to think fighting in hockey was integral to the game. Then, as my third eye began to grow, I saw it as one of the uglier and distasteful ways of engaging in the illusion of separateness; whatever appeal it once had was no longer there. And then I dumbed down a tad and merged the two opinions.
There's no protracted enmity to be found in nature. Apes don't enact Machiavellian torture, despite their ability to use tools. They may be the assholes of the animal kingdom, but you'll never see a pack of hyenas mercilessly bully an antelope until it finally can't take the abuse and jumps off a cliff.
Humans, though, are fucking insane, and besmirch nature in all sorts of horrific ways. As high up on the food chain we are, we sure know how to fuck up a planet and all its inhabitants. Animals settle conflicts quickly and often brutally. There's no psychological residue. Usually the loser of a fight will say to itself, in it's own manner, of course, "Well, I won't try to mate with that dude's gal anymore."
I think an argument can be made for the necessity of hockey fights. Appearances may show just a couple of goons beating each other into a pulp, but what if what they're doing is providing a safety valve? Hockey is a dangerous sport without fighting. It's physical and fast moving. Most players will tell you fighting is necessary because it keeps everyone honest. Without the pugilism, you'd see a lot more egregious acts, like busting out knees and checks from behind.
As in the animal kingdom, disputes are settled quickly and efficiently in hockey. Watch a brutal playoff series and you'll see what I mean when the teams meet at center ice and shake hands upon its completion. So, anyway, there's that. I'm more of a peaceful guy these days and am not a proponent of violence, but I say let fighting stay in hockey. Why not? And, look, most of the people who are aghast by it ("Oh, what brutes!") have no problem sending our troops to foreign countries to partake in wholesale murder or eating a hamburger whose meat was rendered horrifically and unceremoniously from a cow, one of the most peaceful and lovely animals on the planet.
On my way home from work today I read the bumper stickers on the car in front of me. One read "Live And Let Live". Thumbs up to that. Another one had a quote from Jesus that was too faded to read. The other two were pro-Marines. Strange bedfellows. Maybe not so strange.
Does that have anything to do with my editorial on hockey? I don't know, I just want to go dream about the new Guy Maddin film that's coming out and maybe eat some roasted cashews, the tastiest of nuts.
The End.
There's no protracted enmity to be found in nature. Apes don't enact Machiavellian torture, despite their ability to use tools. They may be the assholes of the animal kingdom, but you'll never see a pack of hyenas mercilessly bully an antelope until it finally can't take the abuse and jumps off a cliff.
Humans, though, are fucking insane, and besmirch nature in all sorts of horrific ways. As high up on the food chain we are, we sure know how to fuck up a planet and all its inhabitants. Animals settle conflicts quickly and often brutally. There's no psychological residue. Usually the loser of a fight will say to itself, in it's own manner, of course, "Well, I won't try to mate with that dude's gal anymore."
I think an argument can be made for the necessity of hockey fights. Appearances may show just a couple of goons beating each other into a pulp, but what if what they're doing is providing a safety valve? Hockey is a dangerous sport without fighting. It's physical and fast moving. Most players will tell you fighting is necessary because it keeps everyone honest. Without the pugilism, you'd see a lot more egregious acts, like busting out knees and checks from behind.
As in the animal kingdom, disputes are settled quickly and efficiently in hockey. Watch a brutal playoff series and you'll see what I mean when the teams meet at center ice and shake hands upon its completion. So, anyway, there's that. I'm more of a peaceful guy these days and am not a proponent of violence, but I say let fighting stay in hockey. Why not? And, look, most of the people who are aghast by it ("Oh, what brutes!") have no problem sending our troops to foreign countries to partake in wholesale murder or eating a hamburger whose meat was rendered horrifically and unceremoniously from a cow, one of the most peaceful and lovely animals on the planet.
On my way home from work today I read the bumper stickers on the car in front of me. One read "Live And Let Live". Thumbs up to that. Another one had a quote from Jesus that was too faded to read. The other two were pro-Marines. Strange bedfellows. Maybe not so strange.
Does that have anything to do with my editorial on hockey? I don't know, I just want to go dream about the new Guy Maddin film that's coming out and maybe eat some roasted cashews, the tastiest of nuts.
The End.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Well, it's too bad that our friends can't be with us today
When I walked into the kitchen this morning, I was greeted with the sight of an expired mouse too slow for the trap that had broken its back. Hard to miss, the trap was placed in front of the coffee maker. I looked around. There were a couple of traps spread throughout the kitchen. And not covertly placed; these, if one wasn't watching where one was stepping would catch the wrong prey. As I wondered why Fred had laid the traps out in the open like that, he emerged from his room and told me the traps had caught six mice last night. A bounty! After success like that, I didn't bother questioning him why the traps were laid out in the open. I did ask him - gently, so I wouldn't raise his ire - why he had scalped the mice. He spoke of tradition and other things my mind couldn't handle. I blacked out. I have about six hours of missing time. WTF!
Sometimes I really can't wait to get off this insane planet. I was listening to NPR on the way home from work and a reporter was interviewing people about which Republican they were going to vote for. The responses reminded me why the world is in the shape that it's in. People were talking about voting for a candidate they did not like at all because a) they felt the candidate had the best shot at defeating Obama who they like even less and b) they had to vote for someone and that someone had to be in the Republican party. This is fucking insane! And, look, this is the whole system I'm talking about. Democrats, Republicans - all the same grifters to me. I can't buy into the illusion anymore. And then there's our media....
Enough! The less I keep these vile topics in my line of sight, the better off I'll be. I had a good day today, let's not sully it. I was busy at work, I did some grocery shopping, practiced yoga, ate an incredibly tasty and energy-blasting salad, watched an episode of 30 Rock, and hung a family of mice by their necks from a miniature gallows pole I made out of popsicle sticks.
A good day.
Sometimes I really can't wait to get off this insane planet. I was listening to NPR on the way home from work and a reporter was interviewing people about which Republican they were going to vote for. The responses reminded me why the world is in the shape that it's in. People were talking about voting for a candidate they did not like at all because a) they felt the candidate had the best shot at defeating Obama who they like even less and b) they had to vote for someone and that someone had to be in the Republican party. This is fucking insane! And, look, this is the whole system I'm talking about. Democrats, Republicans - all the same grifters to me. I can't buy into the illusion anymore. And then there's our media....
Enough! The less I keep these vile topics in my line of sight, the better off I'll be. I had a good day today, let's not sully it. I was busy at work, I did some grocery shopping, practiced yoga, ate an incredibly tasty and energy-blasting salad, watched an episode of 30 Rock, and hung a family of mice by their necks from a miniature gallows pole I made out of popsicle sticks.
A good day.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Life is a game but true love is a trophy
A lot of reading lately. The Biology of Belief, Autobiography Of A Yogi, and Genes, Giants, Monsters, And Men, which arrived in the mail yesterday, have been in heavy rotation. And I've been meditating and practicing yoga. My mind has been stretched considerably, and, as a consequence, my interactions with other humans, especially normal ones, have felt odd, out of sync. That is ok. I'm looking to go beyond the rote. Ran into a quote from Kafka that jived with me strongly.
"From a certain point onward there is no longer any turning back. That is the point that must be reached."
Just need to establish momentum and I'll be alright. Am I making any sense? Like I said, my mind has been stretched. Maybe I need a hot oil massage. That sounds very appealing. Let's make it hap'n, Cap'n!
Earlier, I walked over to Yoshi's to pick up some sushi. Been a long time since I've eaten there. The weather was glorious and people were out and about. Spring is close and despite the very mild winter, I'm really looking forward to it. Today was a step in the right direction.
Guess what happens when you listen to Lisa Gerrard a lot? You tune into something esoteric and wonderful, that's what. Her voice is not of this world, which has complemented my mindset nicely.
Watched Norm McDonald's set of standup entitled, oddly enough, "Me Doing Standup". Fantastic! He's one of my favorite comedians. I laughed emphatically throughout. It's streaming on Netflix. Watch it.
The mice have become a problem. To clarify, they've finally become a problem for Fred, who up til now didn't seem bothered much by their presence. Today he told me he was going to pick up some traps. "I can hear them calling out to each other. They've been making a ton of noise." Fred's room is off the kitchen, where these critters hang out. He's at ground zero and, out of any of us, should be the most eager to rid the house of mice. He told me the other day he saw one on his bed. That would have been the proverbial straw for me. Anyway, he bought some traps, something I kept forgetting to do all week. Welcome aboard, Fred. I still think I'm going to buy some poison. We need a Shock And Awe campaign, I think, to show these fuckers we mean business.
What else? Oh, you want to know my grades for this past Thursday's NBC lineup.
30 Rock: A-
The Office: B
I don't watch Community, though I'm not against it, and Parks and Recreation wasn't on this week, so only two grades. Satisfied?
Work has been busy, which has meant increased hours. A step in the right direction, but I need to make some significant changes so I can be self sufficient. And I need to be creative about it.
That's all I've got.
You may now go in peace.
"From a certain point onward there is no longer any turning back. That is the point that must be reached."
Just need to establish momentum and I'll be alright. Am I making any sense? Like I said, my mind has been stretched. Maybe I need a hot oil massage. That sounds very appealing. Let's make it hap'n, Cap'n!
Earlier, I walked over to Yoshi's to pick up some sushi. Been a long time since I've eaten there. The weather was glorious and people were out and about. Spring is close and despite the very mild winter, I'm really looking forward to it. Today was a step in the right direction.
Guess what happens when you listen to Lisa Gerrard a lot? You tune into something esoteric and wonderful, that's what. Her voice is not of this world, which has complemented my mindset nicely.
Watched Norm McDonald's set of standup entitled, oddly enough, "Me Doing Standup". Fantastic! He's one of my favorite comedians. I laughed emphatically throughout. It's streaming on Netflix. Watch it.
The mice have become a problem. To clarify, they've finally become a problem for Fred, who up til now didn't seem bothered much by their presence. Today he told me he was going to pick up some traps. "I can hear them calling out to each other. They've been making a ton of noise." Fred's room is off the kitchen, where these critters hang out. He's at ground zero and, out of any of us, should be the most eager to rid the house of mice. He told me the other day he saw one on his bed. That would have been the proverbial straw for me. Anyway, he bought some traps, something I kept forgetting to do all week. Welcome aboard, Fred. I still think I'm going to buy some poison. We need a Shock And Awe campaign, I think, to show these fuckers we mean business.
What else? Oh, you want to know my grades for this past Thursday's NBC lineup.
30 Rock: A-
The Office: B
I don't watch Community, though I'm not against it, and Parks and Recreation wasn't on this week, so only two grades. Satisfied?
Work has been busy, which has meant increased hours. A step in the right direction, but I need to make some significant changes so I can be self sufficient. And I need to be creative about it.
That's all I've got.
You may now go in peace.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Embassy Row, the fumes they lay low
Stopped at Barnes & Noble after work, where I picked up Bruce Lipton's The Biology of Belief. In the store, I softened the whip of short temper that had been swimming in my pool for the better part of the day. Ah, it's been a tough week, I'm not terribly concerned, but I'm all set with this agitated self. Maybe Bruce will dose me with bliss.
The other day Fred told me he'd been sitting outside after work enjoying the warm weather and heard someone pounding on a door or wall upstairs. In fact, he was more specific: "It had to be Marie because I had talked to Rick a few minutes before as he was walking off somewhere. Plus, I could hear her talking. Her mind must really be going."
It was possible. The last time I saw Marie, which was a couple of years ago, she wasn't exactly lucid. I asked Fred if he thought she had needed help. "I don't think so. It just seemed like she was acting out."
I told him I'd heard someone working up there the day before. "Sounded like Rick was putting down carpet or something", I said. "Yeah, but Rick was out of the house when I heard the pounding", Fred replied.
We left it at that. I'm almost one hundred percent sure it wasn't Marie making the noise. For the last couple of days, there has been a lot of activity upstairs. Sounds like carpeting is being done and by more than a couple of people, which explains the pounding Fred heard while Rick was absent. Fred is a big dummy. I am a super sleuth!
And I'm about to sleuth my way to a hot and satisfying shower. Namaste, champions.
The other day Fred told me he'd been sitting outside after work enjoying the warm weather and heard someone pounding on a door or wall upstairs. In fact, he was more specific: "It had to be Marie because I had talked to Rick a few minutes before as he was walking off somewhere. Plus, I could hear her talking. Her mind must really be going."
It was possible. The last time I saw Marie, which was a couple of years ago, she wasn't exactly lucid. I asked Fred if he thought she had needed help. "I don't think so. It just seemed like she was acting out."
I told him I'd heard someone working up there the day before. "Sounded like Rick was putting down carpet or something", I said. "Yeah, but Rick was out of the house when I heard the pounding", Fred replied.
We left it at that. I'm almost one hundred percent sure it wasn't Marie making the noise. For the last couple of days, there has been a lot of activity upstairs. Sounds like carpeting is being done and by more than a couple of people, which explains the pounding Fred heard while Rick was absent. Fred is a big dummy. I am a super sleuth!
And I'm about to sleuth my way to a hot and satisfying shower. Namaste, champions.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
I met a woman long ago, her hair the black that black can go
By the end of last week, I had decided I would take my car off the road and borrow my mother's car, per her suggestion, until I saved up for another one. This decision was the result of a few things, not the least of which was the fact that the road to getting my car inspected was becoming increasingly convoluted. And expensive. I determined not to put another penny into repairs.
On my way home from work yesterday, my attention was drawn to a tow truck on the side of the road. I felt as if I'd be seeing one soon. Further up the road, I saw another one and had the same feeling. I wondered if my car was ready to give out on me. "You're going to ditch me after all the years of service I provided you? Naw, asshole, I'm not going out like that", I imagined it saying.
Back in the city, I stopped at Shaws to pick up a few groceries, walked over to the bookstore, and returned to my car. It started and then stalled. I tried again. Same effect. I gave up after a few minutes. "Well", I thought, "looks like the ol' girl bailed on me before I could bail on her."
Ah, here's the deal: this topic is not one I'm having a good time reliving, so I'm going to lightning round the rest of the story.
- I waited over an hour for AAA to arrive.
- I had the car towed to my parent's house. The tow truck driver had a thick Latino accent; our conversations were never clearly defined. He told me he once towed a Celtics player but because he doesn't like basketball , he didn't know which player it was. And, from what I could make out, I'm pretty sure he doesn't like black people.
- My parent's, particularly my mother, dressed me down for about a half hour about how my life is in shambles. I tried to keep my composure, but after what I had just been through, it wasn't easy. I know my parent's worry about and care for me, but I wasn't very thrilled at the timing and tone of their lecture.
- I arrived home around nine thirty, hungry and hunched over. I was happy to be home.
So there you have it. Yes, things can suck, but they can be pretty good, too. Today at work, I thought about my relationships. I thought about some things I know about a certain friend of mine who seems to have helped engineer the ending of one of my closest friendships. I've known for some time and have never said anything. Like everything else about this silly business, it'll remain cloaked in secrecy. Cloaked, I tells ya.
But I am in the business of ending this post and finishing my delicious coffee. I will plot solutions, most of them murderous, to the mouse problem we have in the house (their actions are cavalier; they think we're soft); I will play some music; I will take a shower to clean off the dried yoga sweat; I will make a note to remind myself to schedule a haircut; I will fantasize about the wonderful vegetarian food Spira and I had at Life Alive last Friday; and then I will sleep deeply for several hours, dreaming of women and buzzing with cosmic bliss.
On my way home from work yesterday, my attention was drawn to a tow truck on the side of the road. I felt as if I'd be seeing one soon. Further up the road, I saw another one and had the same feeling. I wondered if my car was ready to give out on me. "You're going to ditch me after all the years of service I provided you? Naw, asshole, I'm not going out like that", I imagined it saying.
Back in the city, I stopped at Shaws to pick up a few groceries, walked over to the bookstore, and returned to my car. It started and then stalled. I tried again. Same effect. I gave up after a few minutes. "Well", I thought, "looks like the ol' girl bailed on me before I could bail on her."
Ah, here's the deal: this topic is not one I'm having a good time reliving, so I'm going to lightning round the rest of the story.
- I waited over an hour for AAA to arrive.
- I had the car towed to my parent's house. The tow truck driver had a thick Latino accent; our conversations were never clearly defined. He told me he once towed a Celtics player but because he doesn't like basketball , he didn't know which player it was. And, from what I could make out, I'm pretty sure he doesn't like black people.
- My parent's, particularly my mother, dressed me down for about a half hour about how my life is in shambles. I tried to keep my composure, but after what I had just been through, it wasn't easy. I know my parent's worry about and care for me, but I wasn't very thrilled at the timing and tone of their lecture.
- I arrived home around nine thirty, hungry and hunched over. I was happy to be home.
So there you have it. Yes, things can suck, but they can be pretty good, too. Today at work, I thought about my relationships. I thought about some things I know about a certain friend of mine who seems to have helped engineer the ending of one of my closest friendships. I've known for some time and have never said anything. Like everything else about this silly business, it'll remain cloaked in secrecy. Cloaked, I tells ya.
But I am in the business of ending this post and finishing my delicious coffee. I will plot solutions, most of them murderous, to the mouse problem we have in the house (their actions are cavalier; they think we're soft); I will play some music; I will take a shower to clean off the dried yoga sweat; I will make a note to remind myself to schedule a haircut; I will fantasize about the wonderful vegetarian food Spira and I had at Life Alive last Friday; and then I will sleep deeply for several hours, dreaming of women and buzzing with cosmic bliss.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Let's have a ball and take our sweet little time about it
Not the best day, but I've suffered worse. My day started with a $50 ticket on my windshield which led to obsessive thoughts about finances, my future, viable solutions, disastrous outcomes, the gamut. I settled down at some point and tried to direct my focus toward the positive. I did an ok job, but I still feel a bit tense. I need a back rub and a soft kiss on the lips. Where are you, lady?
Just finished Whitley Strieber's Solving The Communion Enigma. It was a quick read; It came in the mail on last Friday, I put it down last night. My grade: I'm not sure. It certainly wasn't as poetic and terrifying as Communion. That book, which I've been reading from concurrently, is one of my favorites. It's sequel, if that's indeed what it is, didn't grip me nearly as much. And it was frustrating having questions, often obvious, not addressed. In areas, the writing felt sloppy. Some of the ideas put forth seemed outlandish, ready to wilt under the scrutiny of logic's gaze.
Still, I can't say it was a bad book. While I wasn't as engaged as I was when I first read Communion, it was still compelling enough to occupy a good chunk of my free time this past weekend. And I have a suspicion that I will eventually consider the book to be a great one; right now, though I can't say that. So I won't.
Rachael, Janelle, and Pooch Edward Bottoms stopped by last night. A stellar lineup, to be sure. It was endless glee watching Pooch Edward go to town on Mike's toys. I would have done the same. Mike has a shitload of toys that he hardly plays with. A bounty, t'was.
Saw my parent's earlier tonight. Had been a couple of weeks since I saw them. It was a nice visit. They often are.
I think I need to meditate tonight. I've been off my game and feel the lack.
Yes, that's what I'll do.
Just finished Whitley Strieber's Solving The Communion Enigma. It was a quick read; It came in the mail on last Friday, I put it down last night. My grade: I'm not sure. It certainly wasn't as poetic and terrifying as Communion. That book, which I've been reading from concurrently, is one of my favorites. It's sequel, if that's indeed what it is, didn't grip me nearly as much. And it was frustrating having questions, often obvious, not addressed. In areas, the writing felt sloppy. Some of the ideas put forth seemed outlandish, ready to wilt under the scrutiny of logic's gaze.
Still, I can't say it was a bad book. While I wasn't as engaged as I was when I first read Communion, it was still compelling enough to occupy a good chunk of my free time this past weekend. And I have a suspicion that I will eventually consider the book to be a great one; right now, though I can't say that. So I won't.
Rachael, Janelle, and Pooch Edward Bottoms stopped by last night. A stellar lineup, to be sure. It was endless glee watching Pooch Edward go to town on Mike's toys. I would have done the same. Mike has a shitload of toys that he hardly plays with. A bounty, t'was.
Saw my parent's earlier tonight. Had been a couple of weeks since I saw them. It was a nice visit. They often are.
I think I need to meditate tonight. I've been off my game and feel the lack.
Yes, that's what I'll do.
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