Find yourself. Sounds ridiculous on the face of it. But it is not. We get so lost in our every day play acting that our true self disappears. Even in your head. You crawl home and look in the mirror and see nothing. Absolutely nothing.
You get so far down the road, so deep in the mud, that you have to work to find yourself, have to do the research, have to truthfully answer painful questions.
Most of us don't have the guts. Or the energy.
There are few genuine people in the world.
The rest of us act our way through life, regretting the performance at the final moment.
Monday, November 5, 2012
I Am A Greek God
I am a Greek God.
At least as far as imperfection goes.
I was reading up on Greek gods for fun and profit and was amused at the way they are described. Apparently the Greeks had no problem giving their gods human traits.
The Olympians are a group of twelve gods so named because they lived on Mount Olympus. They overthrew the Titans, who were led by Cronus who came to power by castrating his father Uranus. The ultimate sign of family love.
Zeus became the supreme ruler of the Olympians after overthrowing his father Cronus. Like father, like son. Zeus is married to Hera but is famous for his many affairs. However he is known to punish those who lie or break oaths. Apparently they had not defined hypocrisy at that time.
Hera is not only Zeus's wife, she is his sister. I think Sly and the Family Stone wrote a song about that.
Zeus originally courted her unsuccessfully so he changed himself into a disheveled cuckoo. Hera felt sorry for the bird and held it to her breast to warm it. Zeus then resumed his normal form and raped her. She of course then married him.
Ares is the son of Zeus and Hera. He was disliked by both parents. He is the god of war, is considered murderous and bloodstained, but also a coward. If Zeus and Hera were loving parents, maybe John Lennon would never have had to write Imagine.
Apollo is the only one who makes sense to me. He is the god of music. He is also the god of healing who taught man medicine, the god of light and the god of truth. I think that all fits together.
Hephaestus is another son of Zeus and Hera. He is the only god to be physically ugly. He is also lame and there are two different stories explaining this. One says that Hera was so upset at having an ugly child that she flung him from Mount Olympus into the sea, breaking his legs. Another version says that Hephaestus took Hera's side in an argument with Zeus so Zeus flung him off Mount Olympus.
I kept expecting to read about a Greek God named Dr. Phil.
Hades is my favorite. He is the brother of Zeus and was made lord of the underworld, ruling over the dead. He is also the god of wealth. I dig that connection. He is described as unpitying and terrible, but not capricious. Capricious means impulsive or unpredictable. So apparently the Greeks were OK with Hades being cruel as long as he was reliable.
Hermes is the son of Zeus and Maia, apparently one of Zeus's babes on the side. Hermes is the fastest of the gods wearing winged sandals, a winged hat and carrying a magic wand. Sounds like Liberace in Nikes. He is the god of thieves AND the god of commerce. There must be a statue of this guy on Wall Street. He was versatile too because he invented the lyre, the pipes, the musical scale, astronomy, weights and measures, boxing, gymnastics and the care of olive trees. How the hell the care of olive trees got in there is beyond me.
I wanted to wrap this up in scintillating fashion but my brain became covered in fog. I started thinking about insanity and came up with a couple of gods to fit the bill.
Lyssa was the Athenian goddess of rage, fury, raging madness, frenzy, and in animals, the madness of rabies.
Dionysus was the god of the grape harvest, wine making and wine and of ritual madness and ecstasy.
Either one of these gods could thrive quite comfortably in my diseased brain, but coincidentally I have often used Dionysus as a pen name in certain situations. I always associated him with partying, but now that I know he is also connected with ritual madness I like him even more.
At least as far as imperfection goes.
I was reading up on Greek gods for fun and profit and was amused at the way they are described. Apparently the Greeks had no problem giving their gods human traits.
The Olympians are a group of twelve gods so named because they lived on Mount Olympus. They overthrew the Titans, who were led by Cronus who came to power by castrating his father Uranus. The ultimate sign of family love.
Zeus became the supreme ruler of the Olympians after overthrowing his father Cronus. Like father, like son. Zeus is married to Hera but is famous for his many affairs. However he is known to punish those who lie or break oaths. Apparently they had not defined hypocrisy at that time.
Hera is not only Zeus's wife, she is his sister. I think Sly and the Family Stone wrote a song about that.
Zeus originally courted her unsuccessfully so he changed himself into a disheveled cuckoo. Hera felt sorry for the bird and held it to her breast to warm it. Zeus then resumed his normal form and raped her. She of course then married him.
Ares is the son of Zeus and Hera. He was disliked by both parents. He is the god of war, is considered murderous and bloodstained, but also a coward. If Zeus and Hera were loving parents, maybe John Lennon would never have had to write Imagine.
Apollo is the only one who makes sense to me. He is the god of music. He is also the god of healing who taught man medicine, the god of light and the god of truth. I think that all fits together.
Hephaestus is another son of Zeus and Hera. He is the only god to be physically ugly. He is also lame and there are two different stories explaining this. One says that Hera was so upset at having an ugly child that she flung him from Mount Olympus into the sea, breaking his legs. Another version says that Hephaestus took Hera's side in an argument with Zeus so Zeus flung him off Mount Olympus.
I kept expecting to read about a Greek God named Dr. Phil.
Hades is my favorite. He is the brother of Zeus and was made lord of the underworld, ruling over the dead. He is also the god of wealth. I dig that connection. He is described as unpitying and terrible, but not capricious. Capricious means impulsive or unpredictable. So apparently the Greeks were OK with Hades being cruel as long as he was reliable.
Hermes is the son of Zeus and Maia, apparently one of Zeus's babes on the side. Hermes is the fastest of the gods wearing winged sandals, a winged hat and carrying a magic wand. Sounds like Liberace in Nikes. He is the god of thieves AND the god of commerce. There must be a statue of this guy on Wall Street. He was versatile too because he invented the lyre, the pipes, the musical scale, astronomy, weights and measures, boxing, gymnastics and the care of olive trees. How the hell the care of olive trees got in there is beyond me.
I wanted to wrap this up in scintillating fashion but my brain became covered in fog. I started thinking about insanity and came up with a couple of gods to fit the bill.
Lyssa was the Athenian goddess of rage, fury, raging madness, frenzy, and in animals, the madness of rabies.
Dionysus was the god of the grape harvest, wine making and wine and of ritual madness and ecstasy.
Either one of these gods could thrive quite comfortably in my diseased brain, but coincidentally I have often used Dionysus as a pen name in certain situations. I always associated him with partying, but now that I know he is also connected with ritual madness I like him even more.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Strange Things
I do strange things sometimes but they are entirely necessary.
I was driving to work yesterday and I felt like I was going to explode.
I have been feeling hemmed in recently, trapped in chains and dying dreams, supremely frustrated and blindly lost.
It is a physical thing when I get backed into this corner. I was squirming in my truck feeling like someone else was driving it against my will, transporting me to a nightmarish hell I could never have imagined as a hope filled teenager.
The sensation builds as my mind evaluates and considers and looks back; frustration builds as my life looms large right in front of my eyes mocking me, not even challenging me. Giving the perception that maybe there is no answer and this is all there ever will be.
It builds in intensity because I know there is an answer and I cannot see it. I cannot see it because my vision is skewed.
I know there is an answer because this life that I am "living" is so foreign to me that I look at myself like a stranger.
I am not resigned to this reality. I know there is a true reality one inch to the right but I just can't f***ing get there.
I was sitting at a traffic light and I yelled BaBa Booey. Yelled it really loudly.
You have to be a fan of Howard Stern to understand the reference. If you are not a fan of Howard Stern I feel sorry for you.
I felt immediately better. Because the outburst was not one of surrender it was merely a release of pressure. If I didn't yell BaBa Booey my head would have exploded.
I am guessing that my blood pressure at the time was about a billion over a trillion.
BaBa Booey saved me.
I do strange things sometimes but they are entirely necessary.
I was driving to work yesterday and I felt like I was going to explode.
I have been feeling hemmed in recently, trapped in chains and dying dreams, supremely frustrated and blindly lost.
It is a physical thing when I get backed into this corner. I was squirming in my truck feeling like someone else was driving it against my will, transporting me to a nightmarish hell I could never have imagined as a hope filled teenager.
The sensation builds as my mind evaluates and considers and looks back; frustration builds as my life looms large right in front of my eyes mocking me, not even challenging me. Giving the perception that maybe there is no answer and this is all there ever will be.
It builds in intensity because I know there is an answer and I cannot see it. I cannot see it because my vision is skewed.
I know there is an answer because this life that I am "living" is so foreign to me that I look at myself like a stranger.
I am not resigned to this reality. I know there is a true reality one inch to the right but I just can't f***ing get there.
I was sitting at a traffic light and I yelled BaBa Booey. Yelled it really loudly.
You have to be a fan of Howard Stern to understand the reference. If you are not a fan of Howard Stern I feel sorry for you.
I felt immediately better. Because the outburst was not one of surrender it was merely a release of pressure. If I didn't yell BaBa Booey my head would have exploded.
I am guessing that my blood pressure at the time was about a billion over a trillion.
BaBa Booey saved me.
I do strange things sometimes but they are entirely necessary.
What I Need
I want money.
Huge stacks of it.
Huge sacks of it.
Piled as high as the eye can see.
I would like to experience the following reality.
I come home from work exhausted and disillusioned (as always), and with head down push the sliders open to enter the living room.
A solid sack of money falls and knocks my head back, forcing me to look up at an impenetrable wall of sacks of money.
I stand there for a second, bewildered. Eventually I get my wits back about me and claw my way through the wall. Actually I somehow climb up and over the wall, rolling down into a valley of peace that Carol has created for herself and the cats by stacking sacks further into the dining and kitchen area and up the stairs leading to the second floor.
I look at her and say "What's all this?"
She says "I don't know. It was here when I got home."
I say "What do you think we should do?"
She says "I don't know. Maybe we should retire?"
I say "OK. I guess that sounds like a good idea."
If this ever happened to me it would not change me in the least.
I would still drive the Ferrari Testarossa I currently drive.
I would still light my friends' joints with hundred dollar bills.
I would still wear custom made Italian leather shoes.
I would still take my lovely wife out to eat at five star restaurants five nights a week.
I would still hang around with Johhny Depp, Jack Nicholson and Keith Richards.
I don't think abundant money is out of my reach. I pray to Jesus and Santa Claus every day, asking for money.
I figure one of them has to come through.
"Money don't buy everything it's true.
What it don't buy I can't use."
Buddha said that. I trust him. He's highly evolved.
Gordon Gekko said "Greed captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit." He was the Buddha of stock and real estate speculation. He sported nice suits and wore his hair just right.
Gekko also said "Lunch is for wimps."
That is where he and I part ways.
I like lunch.
I will use my money to convince The Doors to go back out on the road with ME as front man. You think Morrison was crazy you ain't seen nothing yet.
I will buy McDonald's and force them to remove everything healthy from the menu, leaving nothing but fat, grease and calories.
Do not pretend to be something you are not.
I will buy Starbucks and change the name to Overpriced & Pretentious.
I will buy an iPhone 5 and hire someone to boil the 600 page instruction booklet that accompanies it.
down to one page.
I will buy Twitter and gut and destroy the company. I don't ever want to hear the word "tweet" again unless it is in relation to my favorite person in the world, Tweety Bird.
I will start my own reality TV show where the losers actually get eaten by tigers and fall into pools of burning oil.
The winners will get books and I will teach them to read.
You can see that my intentions are pure and good for society.
Give me money.
Huge stacks of it.
Huge sacks of it.
Piled as high as the eye can see.
I would like to experience the following reality.
I come home from work exhausted and disillusioned (as always), and with head down push the sliders open to enter the living room.
A solid sack of money falls and knocks my head back, forcing me to look up at an impenetrable wall of sacks of money.
I stand there for a second, bewildered. Eventually I get my wits back about me and claw my way through the wall. Actually I somehow climb up and over the wall, rolling down into a valley of peace that Carol has created for herself and the cats by stacking sacks further into the dining and kitchen area and up the stairs leading to the second floor.
I look at her and say "What's all this?"
She says "I don't know. It was here when I got home."
I say "What do you think we should do?"
She says "I don't know. Maybe we should retire?"
I say "OK. I guess that sounds like a good idea."
If this ever happened to me it would not change me in the least.
I would still drive the Ferrari Testarossa I currently drive.
I would still light my friends' joints with hundred dollar bills.
I would still wear custom made Italian leather shoes.
I would still take my lovely wife out to eat at five star restaurants five nights a week.
I would still hang around with Johhny Depp, Jack Nicholson and Keith Richards.
I don't think abundant money is out of my reach. I pray to Jesus and Santa Claus every day, asking for money.
I figure one of them has to come through.
"Money don't buy everything it's true.
What it don't buy I can't use."
Buddha said that. I trust him. He's highly evolved.
Gordon Gekko said "Greed captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit." He was the Buddha of stock and real estate speculation. He sported nice suits and wore his hair just right.
Gekko also said "Lunch is for wimps."
That is where he and I part ways.
I like lunch.
I will use my money to convince The Doors to go back out on the road with ME as front man. You think Morrison was crazy you ain't seen nothing yet.
I will buy McDonald's and force them to remove everything healthy from the menu, leaving nothing but fat, grease and calories.
Do not pretend to be something you are not.
I will buy Starbucks and change the name to Overpriced & Pretentious.
I will buy an iPhone 5 and hire someone to boil the 600 page instruction booklet that accompanies it.
down to one page.
I will buy Twitter and gut and destroy the company. I don't ever want to hear the word "tweet" again unless it is in relation to my favorite person in the world, Tweety Bird.
I will start my own reality TV show where the losers actually get eaten by tigers and fall into pools of burning oil.
The winners will get books and I will teach them to read.
You can see that my intentions are pure and good for society.
Give me money.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Jacques Barzun Is Dead
Jacques Barzun is dead at the age of 104.
Barzun was a renaissance man. People like this absolutely amaze me. He was considered one of the 20th centuries most wide ranging scholars, one of a few who "tried to reconcile the achievements of European culture and philosophy with the demands and tastes of American intellectual and cultural life."
Have you tried to do that lately? I know I haven't. I didn't even know Jacques Barzun was alive until he died.
A Renaissance man is defined as someone who has broad intellectual interests and is accomplished in the areas of both the arts and the sciences.
At the age of 92 Barzun wrote a book titled "From Dawn to Decadence", an 877 page survey of 500 years of Western civilization in which he argued that Western civilization itself had entered a period of decline. Hard to argue with that.
I now have that book on my Amazon wish list. Talk about ambitious.
This guy was a goddamn genius but he was known as a "popularizer", believing that the achievements of the arts and scholarship should not be seperate from American culture, that writing for a general audience was "a responsibility of scholars."
In other words he wasn't a snob. He believed that everyone could benefit from knowledge - artistic and scientific - especially if expressed in a way that was not condescending.
His friend, Professor Henry Graff said "He saw the great value in reaching a larger public than just his friends. He read everything - I don't know anybody who had such a Renaissance mind - a mind that I don't think I will ever encounter anywhere again."
Barzun mocked intellectuals. "The intellectuals chief cause of anguish are one another's works." I love that.
Consider the honors bestowed upon this man. He was made a chevalier of the Legion of Honor, which is France's highest award and was established by Napoleon Bonaparte.
He was awarded the Medal of Freedom which is the United States' highest civilian honor.
In Cooperstown, in the baseball Hall of Fame, is a Barzun quote: "Whoever wants to understand the heart and mind of America had better understand baseball." You dig where I am coming from? How many intellectuals that you know have an interest in baseball? Renaissance man, baby.
As I learned about this guy I couldn't help but think of Steve Martin.
You didn't see that coming, did you?
If you soften the definition of a Renaissance man a bit, Steve Martin fits the bill.
He disputes this. He doe not like to be called a Renaissance man. But the fact that people try to define him in this way tells you everything you need to know.
Carol and I saw Steve Martin in Boston MANY years ago when he was standing on stage with a fake arrow through his head playing his banjo.
He was f***ing hilarious. Little did we know........................
He is a master on the banjo. He plays it seriously and is famously excellent on it, recognized as such by professional banjo players.
In 2010 Martin won a Grammy for Best Bluegrass Album, beating out established professional banjo players. And on this album were a number of original songs that Martin wrote for the banjo.
He is a successful author. Not limited to comedy writing but also kicking ass in the fiction field.
He is a respected art collector, with extensive knowledge in specific areas. Check out the work of Eric Fischl, a favorite of Martin's.
I did. I like it.
He also collects Picasso and Edward Hopper.
He wrote a work of fiction based on his knowledge of the art world. That is also on my Amazon wish list. It's called An Object of Beauty.
By the way, because I live in abject poverty, my Amazon wish list has 68 books on it. I will have to continue reading beyond my death to get through them all.
And I will.
Steve Martin is also recognized as an intellectual. He is a thinker. A knowledgeable and a smart man.
Who the hell knew the potential when we saw him on stage with a fake arrow through his head? If we gave it any thought at all we would have realized that any man who could make us laugh the way he did was gifted in more ways than were obvious. It takes hard work and an innate understanding of human nature to get people to forget about life's unfairness and just let loose and laugh.
My point is that most of us have a difficult time putting together a shopping list and keeping a job.
Yet there are people in the world like Jacques Barzun and Steve Martin and....................... who do everything, who learn everything, who are unconstrained and limitless.
Whose talents span genres and criticism and jealousy.
We can do better.
We can all do better.
Don't ever let the bastards get you down. Use your brain.
Barzun was a renaissance man. People like this absolutely amaze me. He was considered one of the 20th centuries most wide ranging scholars, one of a few who "tried to reconcile the achievements of European culture and philosophy with the demands and tastes of American intellectual and cultural life."
Have you tried to do that lately? I know I haven't. I didn't even know Jacques Barzun was alive until he died.
A Renaissance man is defined as someone who has broad intellectual interests and is accomplished in the areas of both the arts and the sciences.
At the age of 92 Barzun wrote a book titled "From Dawn to Decadence", an 877 page survey of 500 years of Western civilization in which he argued that Western civilization itself had entered a period of decline. Hard to argue with that.
I now have that book on my Amazon wish list. Talk about ambitious.
This guy was a goddamn genius but he was known as a "popularizer", believing that the achievements of the arts and scholarship should not be seperate from American culture, that writing for a general audience was "a responsibility of scholars."
In other words he wasn't a snob. He believed that everyone could benefit from knowledge - artistic and scientific - especially if expressed in a way that was not condescending.
His friend, Professor Henry Graff said "He saw the great value in reaching a larger public than just his friends. He read everything - I don't know anybody who had such a Renaissance mind - a mind that I don't think I will ever encounter anywhere again."
Barzun mocked intellectuals. "The intellectuals chief cause of anguish are one another's works." I love that.
Consider the honors bestowed upon this man. He was made a chevalier of the Legion of Honor, which is France's highest award and was established by Napoleon Bonaparte.
He was awarded the Medal of Freedom which is the United States' highest civilian honor.
In Cooperstown, in the baseball Hall of Fame, is a Barzun quote: "Whoever wants to understand the heart and mind of America had better understand baseball." You dig where I am coming from? How many intellectuals that you know have an interest in baseball? Renaissance man, baby.
As I learned about this guy I couldn't help but think of Steve Martin.
You didn't see that coming, did you?
If you soften the definition of a Renaissance man a bit, Steve Martin fits the bill.
He disputes this. He doe not like to be called a Renaissance man. But the fact that people try to define him in this way tells you everything you need to know.
Carol and I saw Steve Martin in Boston MANY years ago when he was standing on stage with a fake arrow through his head playing his banjo.
He was f***ing hilarious. Little did we know........................
He is a master on the banjo. He plays it seriously and is famously excellent on it, recognized as such by professional banjo players.
In 2010 Martin won a Grammy for Best Bluegrass Album, beating out established professional banjo players. And on this album were a number of original songs that Martin wrote for the banjo.
He is a successful author. Not limited to comedy writing but also kicking ass in the fiction field.
He is a respected art collector, with extensive knowledge in specific areas. Check out the work of Eric Fischl, a favorite of Martin's.
I did. I like it.
He also collects Picasso and Edward Hopper.
He wrote a work of fiction based on his knowledge of the art world. That is also on my Amazon wish list. It's called An Object of Beauty.
By the way, because I live in abject poverty, my Amazon wish list has 68 books on it. I will have to continue reading beyond my death to get through them all.
And I will.
Steve Martin is also recognized as an intellectual. He is a thinker. A knowledgeable and a smart man.
Who the hell knew the potential when we saw him on stage with a fake arrow through his head? If we gave it any thought at all we would have realized that any man who could make us laugh the way he did was gifted in more ways than were obvious. It takes hard work and an innate understanding of human nature to get people to forget about life's unfairness and just let loose and laugh.
My point is that most of us have a difficult time putting together a shopping list and keeping a job.
Yet there are people in the world like Jacques Barzun and Steve Martin and....................... who do everything, who learn everything, who are unconstrained and limitless.
Whose talents span genres and criticism and jealousy.
We can do better.
We can all do better.
Don't ever let the bastards get you down. Use your brain.
Oh, Sandy
We lucked out with Sandy. We got high winds and rain but we never lost our power and nothing got broke.
This is a miracle because where I live things are delicate and it drives me crazy. If I sneeze we lose our power.
I went into facebook on Tuesday to write about how I stood in front of my house with fist raised and scared Sandy away. I didn't post it because it hit me that there were lots of people who were not as lucky. In NH and especially in NY and NJ.
After dragging my tired ancient ass home from work last night and whipping up a fabulous sausage, onion and potato casserole for me and the wife to enjoy, I sat my tired ancient ass down in the Holy Recliner and watched a lot of coverage of the devastation and suffering the storm caused.
Deaths. Homes destroyed. People scrambling to find food, to stay warm, to begin to try to figure out how the hell to get it all back.
Beginning to wrangle with heartless insurance companies that will fight them every step of the way.
Humans are bugs. We are fragile. We are small physically and mentally.
We strut our stuff pretending to be all knowing and all powerful and end up make our existence even more fragile.
By abusing the environment, abusing each other, abusing our bodies, abusing our minds and destroying our psyches, individually and collectively.
You may not believe in climate change. If that is the case then you probably believe in God. Or Santa Claus.
You are the type that ignores common sense and facts and believes in the unbelievable, the supernatural.
Believing that man's stupidity and greed and lack of foresight has had no impact on the environment is like believing that if you scoop some deposits out of your cats' kitty litter box and throw it in the delightful lasagna you are baking, it will have no effect.
My heart ached watching these people cry and wander with glazed eyes trying to make sense of and get out from under the sudden destruction that has been visited upon their lives. My heart always aches at human suffering.
It is so hard just going to work every day doing meaningless tasks for chump change, getting insulted and lied to by immoral employers, coming home to a house that the bank owns and eating pasta one more time because you can't afford a Porterhouse.
Then to have even that ripped away from you in a heartbeat and be left standing alone against the world and Mother Nature and an uncertain and overwhelming future must rip your mind from it's moorings.
I am glad I didn't post frivolous comments on facebook.
Human suffering, on the scale of the daily grind and on the scale of monumental disasters, is not a f***ing joke.
This is a miracle because where I live things are delicate and it drives me crazy. If I sneeze we lose our power.
I went into facebook on Tuesday to write about how I stood in front of my house with fist raised and scared Sandy away. I didn't post it because it hit me that there were lots of people who were not as lucky. In NH and especially in NY and NJ.
After dragging my tired ancient ass home from work last night and whipping up a fabulous sausage, onion and potato casserole for me and the wife to enjoy, I sat my tired ancient ass down in the Holy Recliner and watched a lot of coverage of the devastation and suffering the storm caused.
Deaths. Homes destroyed. People scrambling to find food, to stay warm, to begin to try to figure out how the hell to get it all back.
Beginning to wrangle with heartless insurance companies that will fight them every step of the way.
Humans are bugs. We are fragile. We are small physically and mentally.
We strut our stuff pretending to be all knowing and all powerful and end up make our existence even more fragile.
By abusing the environment, abusing each other, abusing our bodies, abusing our minds and destroying our psyches, individually and collectively.
You may not believe in climate change. If that is the case then you probably believe in God. Or Santa Claus.
You are the type that ignores common sense and facts and believes in the unbelievable, the supernatural.
Believing that man's stupidity and greed and lack of foresight has had no impact on the environment is like believing that if you scoop some deposits out of your cats' kitty litter box and throw it in the delightful lasagna you are baking, it will have no effect.
My heart ached watching these people cry and wander with glazed eyes trying to make sense of and get out from under the sudden destruction that has been visited upon their lives. My heart always aches at human suffering.
It is so hard just going to work every day doing meaningless tasks for chump change, getting insulted and lied to by immoral employers, coming home to a house that the bank owns and eating pasta one more time because you can't afford a Porterhouse.
Then to have even that ripped away from you in a heartbeat and be left standing alone against the world and Mother Nature and an uncertain and overwhelming future must rip your mind from it's moorings.
I am glad I didn't post frivolous comments on facebook.
Human suffering, on the scale of the daily grind and on the scale of monumental disasters, is not a f***ing joke.
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