(no subject)
I should avoid getting drunk with old friends. Not only does alcohol bring out the worst, the darkest, and the most cynical in me, but it reminds me of older actions and former bets, things I might regret when sober. The time between the last glass of wine and the first cup of tea is a period of mellow horror, the anesthetised memory of things I'd like to forget.
'I've think sometimes that the thing that saves the world is your pragmatism, and the thing that threatens it most is your sense of the grand, the huge, the wonderful. There are people who were born dangerous dreamers.'
Not said of me, by the way, but a nice quote. The inebriated have the luxury of poetics. And it isn't tru--the thing which saves the world from our (or at least my) darker self is ethics, the strange rules that say waht is 'right' or 'wrong.'
I've said several times that one does not destroy one's enemies, at least not normally. The normal habit is to outlive them or to wait for their own destruction, through drink or anxiety, overeager ambition or the slow rot of sloth, or even the quiet accumulation of karma. Those who are worth destroying have normally done one wrong, and the action provides sufficient negative repercussion to prove suitable, with little help.
In the meantime, anger merely focuses the mind on the destructive. A great deal of time has been spent teaching myself how unsatisying that can be, but still, it has attractions that no other path can offer.
Until the day when fate, finally listening to your patience and your silence, puts in your hands those tools you need, the equipment that breaks all obstacles in your way. And do you then pause, to inflict upon your erstwhile tormentor a bit of 'justice." Or do you stay, awaiting the final, fatal stumble, secure in the knowledge that your web is woven and matters are prepared?
'I've think sometimes that the thing that saves the world is your pragmatism, and the thing that threatens it most is your sense of the grand, the huge, the wonderful. There are people who were born dangerous dreamers.'
Not said of me, by the way, but a nice quote. The inebriated have the luxury of poetics. And it isn't tru--the thing which saves the world from our (or at least my) darker self is ethics, the strange rules that say waht is 'right' or 'wrong.'
I've said several times that one does not destroy one's enemies, at least not normally. The normal habit is to outlive them or to wait for their own destruction, through drink or anxiety, overeager ambition or the slow rot of sloth, or even the quiet accumulation of karma. Those who are worth destroying have normally done one wrong, and the action provides sufficient negative repercussion to prove suitable, with little help.
In the meantime, anger merely focuses the mind on the destructive. A great deal of time has been spent teaching myself how unsatisying that can be, but still, it has attractions that no other path can offer.
Until the day when fate, finally listening to your patience and your silence, puts in your hands those tools you need, the equipment that breaks all obstacles in your way. And do you then pause, to inflict upon your erstwhile tormentor a bit of 'justice." Or do you stay, awaiting the final, fatal stumble, secure in the knowledge that your web is woven and matters are prepared?