User:Ideath

Now as I look round, it's mighty plain to see
The world is such a great and a funny place to be;
The gamblin' man is rich and the workin' man is poor
And I ain't got no home in this world anymore.
-- Guthrie

It's getting harder to pretend it all makes sense to me. But pretending as hard as i can is what makes it possible to live and (hopefully) help others. '"It's finally getting serious. So I've grown older. Was I the only one who wasn't serious? Is it our times that are not serious? I was never lonely. Neither when I was alone, nor with others. I would have liked to be alone at last."'

• William Gibson: Count Zero
• Paul Goodman: Utopian Essays and Practical Proposals
• Jackson Turner Main: The Antifederalists
• Richardson Wright: The Gardener's Bed-Book
• The Sunday New York Times

Chances are we are mad.

       "Et je n'ai moi,
        Par la sang-Dieu!
        Ni foi, ni loi,
        Ni feu, ni lieu,
        Ni roi,
        Ni Dieu."

I'm trying to learn how to have a morning routine. They don't come easy, because morning is the only time when sleep is easy to touch. The idea is compost-chickens-dishes-tea-paper. Maybe once i master that, i can add yoga or letterwriting. Consistency is so hard.

Rose:  You made me look ridiculous in there.
Guil:  I looked just as ridiculous as you did.
Rose:  (an anguished cry)  Consistency is all I ask!
Guil:  (low, wry rhetoric) Give us this day our daily mask.

Is this all i have, regurgitated media? Guthrie, me, Wenders/Handke, readinglist, His Name is Alive, Victor Hugo, me, Stoppard. Patchwork. Pastiche? Is it creation? Could it be?