When the clock strikes 10, i shan't have the internet open
Had an extraordinary day, left out the movies and settled mostly on History, there's one on the period of time just before WWI called The Proud Tower that will be like a connective tissue between major events, and the more I delve in there'll always be major events many at a time.
But for the fund of preexisting knowledge only the 20th century and following is filled to the brim with major events, everything is to be highly interesting, the 60s counterculture is for me hugely interesting that occupied my mind as a teen, and then so many other things, identified as places, people, and concepts.
It's so neat to have all this info at my fingertips that I'm convinced that my last years of existence will be without it, good things always have to come to an end, there'll be self embitterment for misusing my time and resources, how often I chose to waste time, and not be focused, it'll all come crashing down on me, but will not be too much for by then I will have, as is my plan, to have reached a minimal summit peak of not caring too much, will have enough physical reading material, and will have a pen and coiled notebook of ruled paper, to write down feverishly my thoughts like Dr Mabuse in the 30s film version, just non-stop, and these tall slender Nordic bearded men will suddenly appear and collect the papers, and it will be they, not me who will cause destruction on a level unheard of since a couple hours ago on the news.
There is a suspension over a pit of screaming burning burlap sacks containing oily geese, and i'm saying in a loud voice, calm down you geese, when I get this all sorted out, I'll have some dish soap to wash all you up, and we'll go for an ice cream cone and drop eggs from a bridge on all the Ford pickups.
And then cosmically the normal order will return to the first stage which will be like when those kids at Woodstock were, all carefree and their folks would be lying on a blanket with a beaten up paperback of a Ken Kesey by them as they daydream about freeing Vietnamese people from the jaws of crocodiles and mad jugglers of men's fates.
And then it would be totally different as it would have to correspond to the dictates of the detached mindset of a yogi at rest in the crucible of the Damnation Army's spirited brass band.
Blahhhh 9:50am day begins for the normal, but it ends for wackos like me and those with night jobs. Take care!! -- Jeff
But for the fund of preexisting knowledge only the 20th century and following is filled to the brim with major events, everything is to be highly interesting, the 60s counterculture is for me hugely interesting that occupied my mind as a teen, and then so many other things, identified as places, people, and concepts.
It's so neat to have all this info at my fingertips that I'm convinced that my last years of existence will be without it, good things always have to come to an end, there'll be self embitterment for misusing my time and resources, how often I chose to waste time, and not be focused, it'll all come crashing down on me, but will not be too much for by then I will have, as is my plan, to have reached a minimal summit peak of not caring too much, will have enough physical reading material, and will have a pen and coiled notebook of ruled paper, to write down feverishly my thoughts like Dr Mabuse in the 30s film version, just non-stop, and these tall slender Nordic bearded men will suddenly appear and collect the papers, and it will be they, not me who will cause destruction on a level unheard of since a couple hours ago on the news.
There is a suspension over a pit of screaming burning burlap sacks containing oily geese, and i'm saying in a loud voice, calm down you geese, when I get this all sorted out, I'll have some dish soap to wash all you up, and we'll go for an ice cream cone and drop eggs from a bridge on all the Ford pickups.
And then cosmically the normal order will return to the first stage which will be like when those kids at Woodstock were, all carefree and their folks would be lying on a blanket with a beaten up paperback of a Ken Kesey by them as they daydream about freeing Vietnamese people from the jaws of crocodiles and mad jugglers of men's fates.
And then it would be totally different as it would have to correspond to the dictates of the detached mindset of a yogi at rest in the crucible of the Damnation Army's spirited brass band.
Blahhhh 9:50am day begins for the normal, but it ends for wackos like me and those with night jobs. Take care!! -- Jeff
46-50, M