monk222: (Mori: by tiger_ace)
One of those blah days, blaher than usual blah days (though not foggy headed, thank god). In addition to getting my brains beat out in chess, I received my dramatic play based on the Peanuts characters, "Dog Sees God: Confessions of a Teenage Blockhead", which proved to be a bust for me. It's not that the play is a downer. I enjoy downers: they confirm my experience of life. This one simply didn't click for me. The subject matter was right: dying and God. However, considering the level at which these questions were explored, I probably needed to be a teenager in high school myself for this play to work for me.

Though, I am impressed by its opening note, in which we learn that Snoopy gets put down for rabies after killing his yellow birdie friend Woodstock. I particularly admire the description that Charlie gives of Snoopy when he comes upon this terrible scene: that his old best friend looked "Both frightened and frightening at the same time." I especially identified with how Charlie laments that they gave Snoopy a shot for rabies when he was a puppy, and supposes that it just didn't work, not understanding that you have to give your dog that shot every year or so. I know what it is to feel so much love for a pet but not really know how to do what is best for it, that stress and pain of not being able to be there for your beloved dog or your cat in its deepest need - being too poor and too dumb.

All this falls on a sudden change in my reading life. A few days ago, I lost all of my appetite for non-fiction prose. I just wanted 'beautiful words', starved for them, feeling like I only have so much time left, and I need to find as many 'beautiful words' as possible. I want to breathe poetry. As a practical matter that meant firing up my Kindle and reading from my collection of the complete works of Byron.

I like Byron's work, but that blahness is still here. I suspect it will just hang around me for a little while, a couple of more days, maybe a little longer. And then it will clear. Like always. I trust. I wonder if I will go back to prosaic works when that happens. Or is there something deeper happening to me?

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monk222

September 2017

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