(no subject)
I leave in a few days, heading back to the Twin Cities. Perhaps this will turn out to be some great folly. Perhaps I should have tried harder. If Minnesota doesn't work out, then clearly this is the only option.
By the way, you can't imagine how happy finding that in the last minute made me.
So I should see people. Call me. Hang out. Movies. I'll make cookies. Tonight (Saturday) perhaps? It could even be fun.
Unrelated - the following is a quotation from Don Marquis's fabulous book The Almost Perfect State, a collection of utopian musings and anti-bean rants. I like it.
"A WICKED LIE
The falsest and most iniquitous saying of the last two centuries is Sterne's sentimentalism, that "the Lord tempers the wind to the shorn lamb."
The shorn lamb, if he gets out in the winter weather, freezes. Face the fact. Chew on it till your teeth splinter. Get it into your system. It is the character of the creation. It is bitter. Suffer over it, and crucify yourself upon it, and question your gods and doubt them because of it, as Job did. In the end, when you find you cannot escape it, even though you be the lamb, something of the edge and roughness and bitterness of the icy wind will become a part of you, and you will get a kind of auto-ironic mirth out of it as you become more the wind and less the lamb; the gods are both tenderness and toughness; what they visit upon you is to teach you to be like them; they are, you are, both the wind and the lamb, and they are you and you are they."
By the way, you can't imagine how happy finding that in the last minute made me.
So I should see people. Call me. Hang out. Movies. I'll make cookies. Tonight (Saturday) perhaps? It could even be fun.
Unrelated - the following is a quotation from Don Marquis's fabulous book The Almost Perfect State, a collection of utopian musings and anti-bean rants. I like it.
"A WICKED LIE
The falsest and most iniquitous saying of the last two centuries is Sterne's sentimentalism, that "the Lord tempers the wind to the shorn lamb."
The shorn lamb, if he gets out in the winter weather, freezes. Face the fact. Chew on it till your teeth splinter. Get it into your system. It is the character of the creation. It is bitter. Suffer over it, and crucify yourself upon it, and question your gods and doubt them because of it, as Job did. In the end, when you find you cannot escape it, even though you be the lamb, something of the edge and roughness and bitterness of the icy wind will become a part of you, and you will get a kind of auto-ironic mirth out of it as you become more the wind and less the lamb; the gods are both tenderness and toughness; what they visit upon you is to teach you to be like them; they are, you are, both the wind and the lamb, and they are you and you are they."