I've lost touch with my astrologer. Some years ago in fact. So you might say I'm at a loss. At a loss to determine what exactly is bothering me. Though I expect it has something to do with the aging process, which, along with profound new levels of wisdom, creates a great deal of ache, pain, and fatigue. When I say great deal, you should understand that I am being hyperbolic, except when I mean it. I'm getting some tests done to see if I have Psoriatic Arthritis, and I'm also looking into a new hip for my still organic left one. I may have already told you the above, if so, take note of my current age; 78.
I'm in the middle of writing a blog post about Horizon magazine and its creator, Cyril Connolly. It turns out that Cyril's life is resistant to any sort of condensation. I was hoping to just concentrate on his first marriage and that period of time. What I've learned is that the social class that Cyril belonged to was very, well social, in a way different than its American equivalent, which seems to have been more like a teenage gang.
This blog thing has been a very effective way to avoid my other writing, which after falling by the wayside, has fallen from the fall from the wayside.
Should I mention my "friend" group? I'm involved with some friends that I meet regularly, almost daily, through Zoom. You may know about that. I can't say anything negative about it, since it happens to be the best therapy available for people of my kind. That's all your getting out of me on that one.
I'm having a Dog Jones. Should Jones be capitalized? (I won't be acquiring a dog though, I'm afraid the poor animal might out-live me, which might end him, or her, in some sort of dog orphanage. I can't do that. If I were to get a dog though, it would have to be a truck-cab dog rather than a back-of-the-pickup dog, (Lab, Rotty, Shepard), because I have a small apartment and smaller fits better with the old man thing. Perhaps a Norfolk or Norwich, or a Miniature Schnauzer. I'd have to think about it. Then again, Martha has shown some interest in an exotic cat called the Miniature Panther. Very cool animal, but would it eat you in the middle of the night?
This post by the way is in lieu of this year's annual report which has been down-graded due to Covid, for no real, or honest reason, similar to much we have experienced recently.
I've been married now for six months, that is to say, my wife and I together have been so hitched. Nothing feels very different. I would, though, advise anyone who has an ongoing relationship and has reached the age of 76 to consider it. It does give one a bit of a feeling of stability, as false as that sense would have to be at 76.
Did I mention that I'm taking Alopurinol for my gout? Just another addition to my long list of meds.
Oh, here's something that bares confessing. As I was closing the blinds the other night, before settling in, in front of the tube, I was saying goodnight to the birds and found myself telling myself I'm blessed. At which time my super-ego held up a big sign which read, "Cornball!" It was a little unsettling. The fact is, though, that I've long ago, quietly so as not to disturb the ancestors, accepted that there is a God and that I'm not IT. And with the help of a long list of esoteric teachers including the two most recent, Ingo Swann and Chris Langan, I've come to understand that I have a soul, which I think of as my manifold gasket.
Current Reading:
Cyril Connolly; Enemies of Promise; Revised Edition, The University of Chicago Press, 2008.
Secret Teachings of the Western World; Gary Lachman; Tarcher/Penguin; 2015
Jesus and the Lost Goddess; Freke and Gandy; 2001
Finished Reading:
Auto-da-Fe; by Elias Canetti. ..........about which I hope to have something to say after I mull it over for some time. It is unlike anything I've ever read; comes from darkest Europe about which I know little if anything.
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