Writing, thoughts, updates
Writing does a funny thing to me, a sort of reprogramming, maybe a calibration, gets me thinking a certain way. I used to worship this feeling but I think now I've got a good bead on it and I know where it fits in. It makes the running commentary of my head much sharper, the vocabulary stronger, the content more honest, accurate. But it's still analytic mind and that has its place.
In 'Slapstick', by Vonnegut, there is a short prologue in the beginning where he says "This is probably the closest to an autobiography as I will ever write." It's a really charming 20 pages, he is admirably honest about himself and unafraid to talk about what matters to him and what doesn't. I like his comment about love, saying how unimpressed he is by it, and what he has experienced as the most endearing connection and concern for someone he would prefer to call "Common decency". He makes "love" out to be what seems to me like "passion", a sort of strong emotional response of concern/care, but it stumbles along and is naive. He says many times he would just like to say "Please, a little less love, a little more common decency." I was very struck by this, love to me seems so selfish, so aimed at one person, idea, object or whatnot. Common decency has this wonderful connotation as something you show at all times, to all things, to all people. This is something that interests me much more than love.
Being said, I still think finding someone you can be good to and take care of in a way that is more dedicated than most people are to each other is valuable, but should be approached with caution. With men I have no problem with this, but with women, poisoned by the sexual drive and all the romantic imagery floating around in my head from various pop culture, I would often plunge headfirst in, selfishly, "passionately"; possessed. I become quickly ashamed. It's so hard to check.
This morning around 8am I woke up feeling gross, slightly headachy, desperately hungry. I had hoped to make yoga by 9am but I felt weak and didn't even think I could twist my legs up into lotus to sit morning zazen. I felt ashamed being unwilling to do anything for myself, just feeling unpleasant. I reached for a book I recieved long ago and had just gotten around to reading, Dave Eggers' A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, a rambling but brilliant account of his early years. I had 80 pages left. I think a writer's skill truly resides in creating flow. It should be easy to read, even when expressing difficult ideas. And his is. 80 pages flies by until I find my neck uncomfortable and bothersome because I've just sat for 30 minutes reading. Sorry it took so long Mella, I enjoyed it very much.
I was thinking today how I miss LJ, how it balances nicely the 2 line status update of facebook and the pages of blog entries, how easy it was to keep up with friends, now facebook's territory. Maybe I'll just put a link to my LJ on facebook. Either that or perhaps a blog, we'll see.
I'm coming back to CINCI in early August, I'll be in town for a week, I'd love to see anyone who's around. My grandparents in Louisville, KY are having their 60th anniversary, which is amazing. I want to bring them gifts and write them letters. They are wonderful people who I feel I haven't been keeping close enough contact with. I want to send them a postcard from Oregon today, announcing how pleased I am to see them in August. I want to start giving gifts frequently, small tokens of appreciation. This is a well-established tradition in Japan so I'd like to get a little practice in before I try to truly internalize it when I'm there.
It's 1:15pm in Oregon but it still looks like morning. On the cloudy days you don't know if the sun will ever break through the cloud cover or if it will simply be cloudy all day. You wonder if the morning will ever give way to the day or if the clouds will just become slightly brighter in the afternoon. I think it's very pretty personally. The temperature doesn't rise above 65, a light jacket suits you throughout the day and maybe a sweater at night. Everyone is calm, thoughtful. I don't sweat, and sweat profusely, ruining my nice collared shirts after being outside for more than 10 minutes. It's nice these days can still happen in summer and not be accompanied by the usual constant weak rain.
Big dumb flies buzz in my house, in a million years they'll figure out glass isn't permeable.
So anyway, I should begin the day.
In 'Slapstick', by Vonnegut, there is a short prologue in the beginning where he says "This is probably the closest to an autobiography as I will ever write." It's a really charming 20 pages, he is admirably honest about himself and unafraid to talk about what matters to him and what doesn't. I like his comment about love, saying how unimpressed he is by it, and what he has experienced as the most endearing connection and concern for someone he would prefer to call "Common decency". He makes "love" out to be what seems to me like "passion", a sort of strong emotional response of concern/care, but it stumbles along and is naive. He says many times he would just like to say "Please, a little less love, a little more common decency." I was very struck by this, love to me seems so selfish, so aimed at one person, idea, object or whatnot. Common decency has this wonderful connotation as something you show at all times, to all things, to all people. This is something that interests me much more than love.
Being said, I still think finding someone you can be good to and take care of in a way that is more dedicated than most people are to each other is valuable, but should be approached with caution. With men I have no problem with this, but with women, poisoned by the sexual drive and all the romantic imagery floating around in my head from various pop culture, I would often plunge headfirst in, selfishly, "passionately"; possessed. I become quickly ashamed. It's so hard to check.
This morning around 8am I woke up feeling gross, slightly headachy, desperately hungry. I had hoped to make yoga by 9am but I felt weak and didn't even think I could twist my legs up into lotus to sit morning zazen. I felt ashamed being unwilling to do anything for myself, just feeling unpleasant. I reached for a book I recieved long ago and had just gotten around to reading, Dave Eggers' A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, a rambling but brilliant account of his early years. I had 80 pages left. I think a writer's skill truly resides in creating flow. It should be easy to read, even when expressing difficult ideas. And his is. 80 pages flies by until I find my neck uncomfortable and bothersome because I've just sat for 30 minutes reading. Sorry it took so long Mella, I enjoyed it very much.
I was thinking today how I miss LJ, how it balances nicely the 2 line status update of facebook and the pages of blog entries, how easy it was to keep up with friends, now facebook's territory. Maybe I'll just put a link to my LJ on facebook. Either that or perhaps a blog, we'll see.
I'm coming back to CINCI in early August, I'll be in town for a week, I'd love to see anyone who's around. My grandparents in Louisville, KY are having their 60th anniversary, which is amazing. I want to bring them gifts and write them letters. They are wonderful people who I feel I haven't been keeping close enough contact with. I want to send them a postcard from Oregon today, announcing how pleased I am to see them in August. I want to start giving gifts frequently, small tokens of appreciation. This is a well-established tradition in Japan so I'd like to get a little practice in before I try to truly internalize it when I'm there.
It's 1:15pm in Oregon but it still looks like morning. On the cloudy days you don't know if the sun will ever break through the cloud cover or if it will simply be cloudy all day. You wonder if the morning will ever give way to the day or if the clouds will just become slightly brighter in the afternoon. I think it's very pretty personally. The temperature doesn't rise above 65, a light jacket suits you throughout the day and maybe a sweater at night. Everyone is calm, thoughtful. I don't sweat, and sweat profusely, ruining my nice collared shirts after being outside for more than 10 minutes. It's nice these days can still happen in summer and not be accompanied by the usual constant weak rain.
Big dumb flies buzz in my house, in a million years they'll figure out glass isn't permeable.
So anyway, I should begin the day.