Impatience

One problem right now is me getting too excited about things that have a long time horizon. I keep checking my newly minted batch of sauerkraut, hoping to observe some change, some magically tangible fermentation. I keep checking my retirement account, hoping for some sign of new progress towards financially secure golden years. There's nothing to see, really, but I keep checking and checking. I just can't shake the feeling of excitement over these things! Imagine, there are unseen changes happening ever so gradually right now that will benefit me at some time in the distant future. The kraut will be finished, deliciously tangy and crunchy, and redolent of my own hand in the process. My retirement funds will grow, sheltered from taxes, buoyed by dividends, into a handsome nest-egg born of my own prudence. The checking will have had no effect on these simmering, fermenting, independently growing things. But check I must!

Filler

-It's been a while since the last slightly lazy bullet-point post.

-Letters could be a really productive way of advancing my writing. If nothing else, they provide plenty of practice. Also, nearly every good writer wrote good letters. Also, they still feel special to write and send, and pretty sure it makes people feel special to receive them.

-Question: do I write best on trains, or is it more that I write only on trains?

-Trains are collectively a monolith. They have ever been and always will be.

-Listen to Orwell on writing; he was very good at it.

-These very words may someday be worth their weight in gold, except that internet words can't have any literal weight, so it will have to be figurative.

-My instinct told me don't lay it on too thick. You want to say nice things, but that can be taken too far. I've made my point, that I'm a clever fellow, that I can reference Shakespeare and Bogart almost simultaneously. Don't push your luck.

-The person whose job it is to choose the style of bench at Central Square-Lynn.

-Invasion of personal communications by business communication modes.

-Todd Barry: genius. G-E-N-I-U-S.

/\<>/\

It feels good to be with your family. It's right.

It feels right to be good. It is good to be right. My friends across the aisle will agree it's good to be on the right when the shoe is on the other foot.

Doing the right thing isn't always easy, but it must be always right.

Do you see now how the squire tied himself in a knot?

The word love gets thrown around a lot at graduation.

Have high standards and they must be met, must.

days go by, I don't know why

The ends of days have been better than the beginnings lately. I had this fear this morning, that I had no control. It was a dream that bled into the morning and threatened to destroy any chance of having a good day. Events were running their course without my input. I was an actor in the play of my life. The actor doesn't write the lines, or create the scenery, or direct the action. He is a puppet, moved by others and bent to their will.

It was frightening, and the terror I felt pressed down on me, clamoring to be heard to the exclusion of all other thoughts. Everything reminded me of my fear, that I would be passed by. A wave washed over me, and in it was everything I hold dear, racing over me, through me, and past me in a flash before I could grab hold of it. For the life of me, I couldn't make it right. I knew I shouldn't feel this way, and that I would feel fine later on, but the immediacy of it was the worst part. In that moment I could not escape, and it was an awful thing.

strange abstractions that come out of my head from time to time

I'm not afraid to be myself. I guess that's the biggest thing. It feels like being free. It feels like I'm finally coming into my own, like I'm right where I ought to be. And maybe that means recognizing that there isn't anywhere in particular that you have to be, and that right where you are is just fine.

Feels great,

Affirmation.

For you biting zealots here's a quote

"I'm irresponsible, and I have no fear. It's a great combination." -A

Pens that won't run out of ink, and cool quiet and time to think

I was thinking recently about how we are constantly stimulated wherever we go. It seems to me this leaves little room in the mind for our own thoughts. Where does your mind go when it is constantly under assault by a thousand different kinds of media. Print ads on the subway, iPods in your ears, television at home, podcasts during work hours, even something as innocent as a book or magazine to read on the bus ride. To me, it all seems to be taking away from the time we have on our own, to think, to consider deeply.

On Friday evening I had something hopeful on my mind that I wanted to think about. What I realized, though, was that in my normal routine, I don't really have any time to consider things. I'm often in a hurry, and I'm almost always being stimulated by something exterior to my brain. I had to turn off the TV, and the music, and the lights to even have a chance to process the thoughts I had wanted to process. I was completely surprised by the fact that in my normal day, I don't really have time to think things over. I hadn't budgeted my time for that, and I wasn't even aware of it.

It seems to me that we often lose sight of how much stimulation we are forcing our minds to endure. It's important to think about stuff! Give yourself some time, unstimulated, to go over everything that's happened to you thus far, and consider everything that will happen. It's a lark! It's also something that is essentially human, and that we need to be sure not to lose.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

"America is still the land of the rugged individualists"

I'm going to pose the question that I'm sure is on everyone's mind:

Is the only goal of every indie band starting out to get their song on a car commercial?

I've really had way more than enough of this junk. What happened to the good old days of Chevy picking Bob Seger's "Like a Rock" for their commercials and just pounding it into your head, day after day, night after night, advertisement after advertisement? Yes, those were the days. Enough of the indie band meal ticket ads. Really, what are the people who make these spots thinking? Nothing sells cars like seedy-looking, reedy-voiced twentysomethings in flannel?