journal entry

 The crow caws thrice.   The car breaks squeak, as the engine idles, then accelerates away.  I sit in my room, with the window open, the sound of traffic washing through, like waves at the beach.  My light is on, the music is off, as I type into my computer, thinking about thought.  My desk is covered in trivia cards.   I have no idea what the total number of questions might be.   Many thousands.  It will keep me busy for a very long time.  The internet has more, too.   And I can go down rabbit holes ’til kingdom come, on wikipedia, chat gpt, google.   LIfe is good.  I don’t ask for much.  I have a gym membership and a subscription to the Economist.   The branch library is a 10 minute bike ride away.   I have an Echo to give me news, answer questions, play music, tell jokes, wake me up.  I have a fan for when it gets hot, a space heater for cold.  I print my blog.  I check the page view statistics every day, noting it on my calendar.  Today I got an afghan burrito.  I will do push-ups, later, before bed.  I take my meds at night.   8 hours later, I’ll get up and do my thing again.   Read, watch, listen.  I’m working on a Dave Eggers book.  I listen to college radio.  I watch YouTube things like cirque du Soleil, magic, parkour.  I have a pile of books in my room.   Piles, actually, split into subjects.  I will be a happy camper for a very long time.  I’m 52 years old.  Life is good.   I don’t need much.  I have internet, a library, music, books, food, clothes, my room.   All good.  Have a nice life.  

I went to the liquor store on the corner.   I got an it’s it, a bag of chips, and a kerns.   Junk food.    I really shouldn’t, but it’s a vice, like porn, or sleeping too long.  There are worse things.  I’m supposed to lose weight, like 20 or 30 pounds.   I’m pre diabetic, and that’s what the doctor ordered.   I’m supposed to aim for a pound a week, but I’ve gained 5.   Shit.  I thought it would be easier.   I only have like one beer a month, if that.  So that’s not the problem.  My meds cause weight gain.  A pound a week is doable.  I can do this.  A siren passes.  Some music, too.  I’ll immerse in my book til I go to bed in maybe 3 hours.   Goodnite.

I watched Cruel Summer by Bananarama on YouTube.   I somehow missed that from the ‘80s.   And I watched a new Madonna video, a song I’ve never heard - American Life, director’s cut.   And I did 410 pushups today.  1106 page views today.  8 days in a row over a thousand.  Just getting started.  I don’t want to talk about it, but the insanity persists.  That’s why I take meds.  That’s why I’m overweight.  That’s why I hate the POSD.   STFU.   The less, the better.   Let there be silence.  Silent night, holy night.  Vanity and sanity, hannity and manatees, and Anna T.

I don't know an Anna T.   I know an Anna P, though.  Like quiet Wyatt.

solo, duo, trio, quartet, quintet, sextet, septet, octet.   

and zero.  nil, null, nought, nothing.  Like Cage's 4'33.

The Sound of Silence, Simon and Garfunkel, in fact, isn't.

the sound of death, the sound of a ninja, a sound mind, sound thinking