blog

Blah blah blah. Stumbled upon the San Genero Festival this year. The tail end--cool night, descending depression that comes and goes, paralyzes here and there. Three or four old and alone people listening to loud rock music meant for many more. Been looking at ~’s pictures on facebook. Whooa—living. It’s so easy for me to live very very small, very inward. It’s very easy for me to be very content with what I have and ruminate about the rest. Always waiting to be done to; going out and doing something that has always been a rarity and getting rarer. Laziness?—Maybe. Solipsism, too. And the (irrational,) desire for a clean, unencumbered life. Yesterday I got drunk for the first time in many months. Conversation drifts to sex like always. Attention drifts to the lean shaggy haired types in the corner, of course. Feeling the loss of my resolve, dissolving in fun that is nothing more. Resolve to live better, richer. Stop seeking the same dead end exhilarations over and over again.

Other hobbies include scanning the dollar book carts at the Strand every single day for Either/Or, which I hear is about radical decision-making. Decision-making for life—aware and irrevocable and not without pain, which makes it a transcendent act. More theory from theoretical humans. Those who find it impossible to live without justifying every_single_thing that enters such awareness. Charles Lindbergh was one. He looked at one thing only when choosing his wife, which was breeding. “I learned it living on the farm” he said. Also accounts for his Nazi sympathizing etc etc. And then someone went and stole his baby. Tyranny of the unanticipated. Reality checks come in all forms. Even through something as unglamorous as facebook.