Negative space is just as important as positive space. Places we should leave alone…places we do not belong…should be respected for a thousand reasons, not the least of which is that interference with them is the handiwork of dangerous psychopaths and narcissists. I am positive I would be delighted to plunge and twist a sharp knife into the black hearts of such beasts.
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Reality is an interpretation of perception; the way experience is perceived from a unique vantage point. If that is true, universal reality is a meaningless concept. Nothing is real, except to the extent that participants or observers consider it to be. Of course, the previous statements may be bullshit. Reality is what we—individually, not collectively—decide it is. But agreeing on the definition may make the experience more tolerable. I spent part of last night thinking about what is real and what is not; I spent another part in a dream involving my first job in association management…again. Both night-parts contributed to another night-sweat-a-thon, from which I emerged this morning when I woke, just before 5. Once again, the cold, damp sheets startled me awake; though the startle could have been dream-induced. Whatever the cause, my fitful sleep was interrupted. A roaring fire, a soft, warm (and dry) mattress, and a shot of fine whiskey sound good right now, though probably not together. It’s a touch early for the whiskey. Bedding and open flames should be kept far, far apart. In the right sequence, though, they could smooth and warm the rough, cold edges. The edges certainly could stand to be warmed; the outside temperature when I woke up was 18°F; it’s now 17°F.
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Competing desires are the causes of much of the grief we encounter and/or create in our lives.
WANTED: Seeking an extremely rich and generous elderly couple nearing the very final moments of their lives to serve as adoptive parents and provide an enormous tax-free financial inheritance.
WANTED: A distant, desolate cabin located far—far away from society and civilization—to serve as a base and a place conducive to development of a contemplative, ascetic life.
Soothing silence. Lively noise. Bright sunlight. Total darkness. Freedom to take risks. Protection against danger.
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Two years after I graduated from high school, three inmates held at the Walls Unit of what was then the Texas Department of Corrections took a dozen hostages and held them for eleven days. The leader of the prisoners, Fred Carrasco, was a heroin distributor who had been given a life sentence for the attempted murder of a police officer. At the end of the standoff, during the inmates’ attempted escape, one of the prisoners was killed, Carrasco committed suicide, and two hostages (both prison employees) were killed. One of my brothers worked at the prison at the time. When the siege ended, my brother (who earlier had been an Air Force medic) worked with the prison doctor in an unsuccessful attempt to save one of those who had been shot…it could have been Carrasco, who shot himself. Just over a year after the attempted prison break, I got a job as a research intern for the prison system. My office was in a building across the street from the Walls Unit. I am glad the prison environment around me was nothing like the godawful, gritty, hopeless prison featured in the Mayer of Kingstown series. Still find the series absolutely riveting.
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Last night, a talent show and chicken dinner was held at the UU church. Though mi novia had purchased tickets, we did not go. I did not feel well enough to go out in the world with lots of people and mi novia was worn out from emptying the kitchen, so she stayed home, as well. My wonderful sister-in-law, who was a kazoo player (I gather) in the talent show, delivered two fried chicken dinners to us after the show. Good fortune and good people follows m where I go!
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If I could defy the laws of physics and not get caught, I would try out different scenarios of the future, selecting one for full engagement only after the trial run. And, because I would have already broken the law, I would go back in time, as well, inserting myself into times and places I never belonged.
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Mi novia, during the return trip from her trek into Hot Springs to do some errands, bought yesterday’s lunch (Reuben sandwiches) and this morning’s breakfast (klobasnek, AKA sausage kolaches). Now that we’re deep into a rather pricey kitchen renovation, the fact that we seem to have no interest in cooking makes me wonder whether that decision…no, I won’t second guess it. We wanted a more appealing kitchen; we’re getting it.
