writing is orderliness. order from chaos: ordered arrangements of letters, words, clauses, sentences. bits of graphite. but there’s order that imposes – superimposes, separates – and is overbearing. instead we must pursue order that lifts, that points upward to cosmos, that yields a bigger whole, not a smaller part.

ordering of mind fog, of experiences, of events.

shape: shape is a noun, and a verb. its form is defined by the process that forms it.

why i have a violent reaction to soylent: there is something precious about the meal as social ritual. i’m sure there’s plenty to say symbolically/biblically/historically, but just empirically – just yesterday! – sitting down to have dinner, facing another person and eating together causes such an automatic tone-shift. the intentional togetherness is unavoidable.

nuggets of memory:

agnes, who is a hero of sorts to me. she called me richard. once she melted the print on my t-shirt while ironing it; she felt so bad that she gave me twenty dollars to buy a new one. she gave birth once while ironing. she made me frozen pizzas with charred bottoms, tinned curry and frozen prata, and (best of all) frozen chicken burgers and homemade chips. i dreamt of her last night. i want to write a letter to her but fear she won’t be able to read it. i want to say thank you.

miss t, who told me in between bach and chopin that she saw an angel. who prayed before every piano lesson, and had an organized drawer-system of sweets. depending on how well you played, you got a different kind of sugar.

attending one of the first funeral services i can remember. i might have been ten. it was late at night, and i didn’t know what was happening. when does one learn about death? all i know is i was completely absorbed in Little Men, which is probably the book i’ve read the most number of times, and very aware of the fact that i was at church on a day that wasn’t sunday.

fifteenth birthday on a beach in michigan. melly had broken up with her girlfriend and she was crying and i was hugging her. we had spent the entire night in the arcade playing hunting games and killing bison. we’d had tacos with soft & hard shells. i wanted to be alone for a while, so i went to the pseudobeach and said a prayer because it felt like the right thing to do.

sixteen and refusing to go to church with family, going with friends instead. having an angel pray over me at altar call: God, build in her an arsenal of truth. You are about to unleash so much more of yourself on her than she can imagine; prepare her and make her ready. waterfall.

our days are a breath but they feel so full and so long.

how do i remember college?

events? screaming into darkness over the atlantic ocean one night in half moon bay. journeys? the first time i made the trek from stouffer to frogro and the space between walnut and spruce felt extremely long. spaces? people? conversations/food/letters/hugs/songs/books…..gah.

the mind is a garden and it needs tending. the right things must grow!

maybe this tending time…disk reformatting or indexing etc…is what we lose when we have no margins.

the myth of the multipurpose device. outsource everything to everything. everything is blending. i can write email on my phone, write texts on my computer. this isn’t a bad thing.

the cloud is a promise of security – nothing will be lost. PHEWWWW. (but it will be!)

loneliness longing love.. life WHY WHY WHY!!!!!!! ahhaha. stop talking start praying.

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