Mid-afternoon. Carol has been cleaning closets for Vietnam Vets who will be around tomorrow to collect. She found lots of slightly used but usable goods and kitchen equipment like a very nice coffee maker that we only used (sometimes) when company or family comes.
You watched ‘Grimm’ one of your favorites to take it off the DVR. Otherwise, your morning was spent mostly sleeping as you have been out of sorts the last couple of days. That and you are feeling really self-conscious about the blogs.
I am. I don’t seem to care about writing, and it bothers me because it is one of the few things that give me dimension in life.
That is an odd way to put it, boy. – Amorella
It is odd because a writing is two dimensional in its nature. I cannot work on two blogs at once. My mind just doesn’t work that way. I am ready to scrap “Amorella, Diplomat and Me”. When I think about Arthur and Merlyn I cannot help but think about Bob and me and I find myself saddened by his loss. This is not an excuse. Perhaps I am more concerned about losing my sense of secret passion, maybe it is nothing but passion for myself. That sounds horrible and arrogant and self-centered. I think about the Sartre quote to Camus Richard D. sent me: “You are free to think what you like.” It is true as anything anyone ever wrote but the limitations, it seems to me, are on imagination alone. If it cannot be imagined then it cannot be thought. Somehow I find this very depressing – a reminder of our limits as a species. Alas, as I see this on the screen I think it has more to do with self-pride, my own and for our species. Not a good sign when humility can easily defeat this sense of pride.
Not bad, orndorff. You solved this bit of idle/idol melancholy on your own. – Amorella.
Something is rotten within my own state.
The Bard’s play at humor returns. Post and relax, old man. Later. - Amorella Then I am not done with the writing and the blog?
Not unless you want to be, boy. - Amorella
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