Journal Entry

 Good morning (good afternoon).  I slept in.  Re is awake.  She just went back to bed.  The sound machine is on.  White nose thing, or whatever, from Sharper Image.  On creek setting.  The traffic outside rolls by, with a kind of waves on the beach sound, if you tell your head to interpret it that way.   Except for the sirens.  We have incense burning, too.  “Money” scented incense (or something!).   Incense, like a candle, demarcates time.  And we all know time is money.  Yesterday was Valentine’s Day.   So flowers should be cheap, today.   Re just wants lillies, so I have to go look and fetch. 

We started reading Sophie’s World, aloud to each other.   We each read a chapter.   The third chapter awaits.   I like reading to Re.  For now, I can just sit (and write) while Re rests.  I’m charging my computer.   I can listen to music on my headphones, or read the WB (or both).  Or I can meditate, and focus on my breath.  Horizontal meditation?  I need to do pushups, and maybe I should eat my GNC protein powder.  The kitchen looks great.   I love going to the kitchen.   I could call my mom, too.   The blog is at 63.   Yesterday went up to 79.  It’s only 1:31p.  (page views).  I always say I got x.    I should be saying My Blog Got x (Page Views).   But people understand.  Right?  I got 80 today.  My blog got 80 page views today.   You know.  My library book has another week on it.  I want to finish it in time.   Maybe some kid needs it.   My goal is a hundred pages a day (for like 7 days), so I can stay in the time frame.  But I have an Economist, too.   Both demand my time and attention.   I’m writing.   We’ve started Sophie’s World.   Busy, busy!

The Hutchinson CK company the Economist was writing about is NOT my brother’s company.   It just sounds like it.   I have spitball shooters for Ben and Dec.   I doubt the parents will approve.  Poor Liz.   Her big brother died in his sleep, just the other night.  I’m not sure I ever met Dan.  Ugh.  

Sunday, but not sunny.   A bit overcast, which is nice, in Berkeley.  Today I will: read WB, check blog at 4p, maybe read some Economist or Sophie’s World, and listen to music.  I’ll eat some of Michael’s lentils, and maybe some GNC powder.   Do some pushups.   Artcast awaits, as well.  My day, by Jesse Teshara.   Happy Sunday.  No church.   I slept.  Candles,  incense, and creek noise fills the room, as the minutes tick by.   Re sleeps.  Blog views add up and accumulate.   634,590 is my Total.    Over half a million.   I’m turning into McDonald’s.  X served!

I wish I had people in my life who read my blog.   I tell myself I don’t need validation, but it’s nice to get commentary, opinions, reaction, in any case.  I mean, I’m not writing to the Void!!!

What do you think?   What’s good?  What sucks?

wp

Aides with AIDS, born in the sign of Cancer with cancer, having a cold in the cold, bird flu /flew, dead before dying, sick and tired of being sick and tired, infested festivals, weak this week, and healthy in thy hell?  ill in Illinois, and well on welfare, and sick with sickle cell disease, and Cyrus has a virus in her iris, while erections sometimes carry infections, and there's the wheeze disease, and the bibliophile's addiction to fiction, (meals are most real), and the government tries to prevent the production of poisonous toys.  Just breathe.   Don't seethe.  Health, wealth, stealth, not filth.   Infected and infested with incesticide.   Injured ninja.  Insane pain and plainly sane, like manatee sanity, whatever floats your boat, with comfort and ease, like Mumford in the trees.  Presto!  presta valves and pesto!  all better :-).   Allah, peanut butter sandwiches!    Pure, no sin, clean as a whistle, as holy as Swiss cheese!  The smell of sin upon sin replaced by cinnamon raisins?   vaseline, lysterine, and glycerine?

stressy Jesse, anxious Hank, nervous in the service, scared to share, a worried jury, in terror of error, frightened of fighting, and hating fate, that is, death by meth - without breath, but what if- on the mend, without end, eternally infernal, or infinitely bit, or always in Galway, forever pulling levers, or nonstop mopping (!).    Good gawd, Rod - we'll all be in the sod, you odd wad of a dirt clod!

4 ways of saying the same thing:

1. As Adi Da said, Reality is all the God there ever is.   God is reality, and reality god.   Reality is made of God.   God is love.  The universe loves you.   Or, at least, an indifferent universe doesn't hate you.  

2. Allah is all.   Aha!   The beneficent, the merciful.   BM.

3. Catholicity means 'universality', so in a way, everything is Christian, too.  Catholic means "universal."   (Mostly empty space, but whatever).   ST:   spacetime is saintly?  ("ooh God, you are so Big! -Monty Python).  TV is probably far more interesting than The Vast, excepting the odd astronomer or astrophysicist, I suppose.

4. It's all good!!  Respect!

initial conditions, one thing leads to another, great chain of being, lead and what follows, prime mover ex nihilo or something!

hierarchies and lower-archies.    superhuman and subhumans.   I'm only human.  You can Big Up yourself, or you can think of yourself as a gnat (Hi, Nat), at the same time, in fact.    Simultaneously Big and Small, looking at yourself from both perspectives.   There's always a bigger fish.  You are your own Universe (and can even imagine a universe inside your skull), yet you are a mote and a blip, too.   Just do you.  It is what it is.   Honey, I shrunk the kids.   And one of the kids is a monster!   Like a vile vicious vampire in a vast vacuous void!   Drunk dry.