(no subject)
It is too damn hot in my house to sleep tonight.
That's what I thought to myself, lying in bed. Too hot to fall asleep, in November? This is Canada, for crying out loud, it costs a lot to heat a home. It's all my neighbour's fault - but that's a story for another day.
Back in bed, it occurred to me that I wanted to write about it here. Even stranger, I actually got up and did it. Why, I wonder? Why now? Even when I was an "active user," I never really wrote in my journal all that much.
Now that I'm awake and sitting at my computer, thoughts flood my head:
- What is the single, highest aim of Art? Is it to move, to inspire, to provoke a certain reaction? I think the answer is straightforward. The highest aim of Art is to communicate something heretofore incommunicable. All other goals are secondary, even peripheral.
- I don't think Shureed is a compatible gym buddy for me. His goals and his methods are too different from mine. It is nice to have someone to go with, but I'll be glad when I find someone I can actually train together with, not just beside.
- I really have to talk to my neighbour about this temperature thing. Leopold - yes, this is actually my neighbour's name - and his Viennese ass is just going to have to suck it up and close the fucking window that's been open since he's moved in.
- Which is worse: to take action against grievous injustice when all possible outcomes worsen the situation; or to watch evil being done and do nothing?
- How am I going to get up tomorrow morning if I don't go to sleep?
That last one is pretty convincing. Until next time, folks.
That's what I thought to myself, lying in bed. Too hot to fall asleep, in November? This is Canada, for crying out loud, it costs a lot to heat a home. It's all my neighbour's fault - but that's a story for another day.
Back in bed, it occurred to me that I wanted to write about it here. Even stranger, I actually got up and did it. Why, I wonder? Why now? Even when I was an "active user," I never really wrote in my journal all that much.
Now that I'm awake and sitting at my computer, thoughts flood my head:
- What is the single, highest aim of Art? Is it to move, to inspire, to provoke a certain reaction? I think the answer is straightforward. The highest aim of Art is to communicate something heretofore incommunicable. All other goals are secondary, even peripheral.
- I don't think Shureed is a compatible gym buddy for me. His goals and his methods are too different from mine. It is nice to have someone to go with, but I'll be glad when I find someone I can actually train together with, not just beside.
- I really have to talk to my neighbour about this temperature thing. Leopold - yes, this is actually my neighbour's name - and his Viennese ass is just going to have to suck it up and close the fucking window that's been open since he's moved in.
- Which is worse: to take action against grievous injustice when all possible outcomes worsen the situation; or to watch evil being done and do nothing?
- How am I going to get up tomorrow morning if I don't go to sleep?
That last one is pretty convincing. Until next time, folks.