Thursday

Dreamwidth was down this morning, throwing off my blurty day. ... ... I must have gotten lucky when I first played Freecell Solitaire, because the next two times I played, I ran out of moves early. Well, I was a little worried that it might be too easy. At least that's no longer a problem. Daimon says, "I thought Solitaire was for the nighttime." Yeah, but I had a bad night's sleep, and so I am as tired and woozy as I am in the evenings. It's kind of a night-like day as a practical matter. ... ... Arthur Schopenhauer: “Our own past, even the most recent, even the previous day, is only an empty dream of the imagination.” [The World as Will and Representation] … … Schopenhauer: “As soon as we enter into ourselves … and wish for once to know ourselves fully by directing our knowledge inward, we lose ourselves in a bottomless void; we find ourselves like a hollow glass globe, from the emptiness of which a voice speaks. But the cause of this voice is not to be found in the globe, and since we want to comprehend ourselves, we grasp with a shudder nothing but a wavering and unstable phantom.” [The World] ... ... Kids walking in from school. When did our street suddenly become infested with so many loud teenagers? It's like there has been an explosion of them this year. Pi says, "You don't have to be terrorized by them! LOL They are just kids." That's easy to say. But they have all the power. They feel no restrictions or boundaries and are bursting with life and animal spirits. And I'm only 5'6". And if we did get into a rumble, I could go to prison, after getting beat up! She says, "Well, that wouldn't stop you from fucking one of the girls, would it?" Please, I'm short and ugly. You know how sexy that is! I'm a fifty-year-old ogre. None of those girlies with their firm, bouncy titties would let me get within twenty yards of them. No, there is no upside to this. I live in terror, at least at four in the afternoon on weekdays. ... ... The Cowboys are playing tonight, and Pop has taken over the room. Fairly independent of that, I found myself feeling exceptionally crappy. Maybe I need to do less card-flipping, stop obsessively looking for aimless distraction, and perhaps a little writing is what the doctor might prescribe. I often think of Beauvoir's statement that a day without writing leaves her with a taste of ashes.