Philosophy, politics, entertainment. Art, music, poetry, science. Macrocosm, microcosm.
Peculiar how this blog, the blogging of it, pacifies me and gives me purpose. I put myself to sleep nights at the homeless shelter, reviewing in my mind what I have blogged for the day, planning what I shall blog on the morrow, and when I wake momentarily to pee in the hour of the wolf it puts me back to sleep even faster than visualizing the Taj Mahal (my usual quiet-mantra).
posted by anatole at
5:55 PM
I burn hot. I tend to exhaust people in conversation, like Margaret Fuller did Carlyle. Which leaves me (but apparently not Margaret) always wishing I'd shut up sooner. I have quite a few friends and not many enemies, but I'm very proud of the few I do have. There is consensus among my friends about me, which is how I know to write about myself. What my enemies think of me I have no idea. That, of course, could be dangerous. The list of interests and favorites is absurdly partial and half-assed, particularly as to music and books. It's the stupid format of the blog itself, as given, that, of course, I color outside the lines and burst the seams of.
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