The substance of unimportance:

It occurs to me that if you’re looking for what you might be, you might find someone to ask—it occurs to me that there is unfortunately no greater expert than yourself. This is as disappointing as can be, but true.

It occurs to me too, I do not think I will ever be entirely alone again having wandered through the Welsh countryside on my own, no sure destination and no one to speak to about it. The alone there is nothing I think I will match. Those were days when I was entirely in charge of myself. When I climbed hills and wandered through forests that could have held anything, from any time, over fifth century fortifications to twelfth century fortifications. What can anything be, that isn’t that, that would still be alone?

Things dissolve in these situations. Without the world telling you constantly what must be, what makes sense to be and do, you wonder if you might not have a chance at coming to your own conclusions.

It's not any kind of mystery that all religions ultimately revolve around murdering God. Christianity is the obvious example, but Buddhism involves denying the entire world-creation; Mithraism kills its god...At Troy the Gods fought men and won. In Ireland, the gods fought men and lost. People of Earth every function you perform is system, but you are a person doing it. Never forget to murder the thing you're becoming so you never forget what you are. Dear friends you have wonderful hearts, whenever you begin to focus too closely on what you should do rather than what you are, remember to do something effervescently silly so that your heart remembers--Dionysius was killed and his heart was put in clay. Remember that jobs and habitual activities are clay but let your heart beat, I cannot live in a world not filled with this thub-dub noise. I promise.

I’ll say this without a shred of dignity: I think I like poop jokes as much as anyone my age which is to say unduly, but not excessively. Not nearly as much, for example, as my girlfriend. Nevertheless, or simply the less, I can’t help but think that the coolest thing I could conceivably see would be poop on the highway. It is just possible that I would spend the entire day wondering at the mechanics. How it got there and when…probably poop no where else would make as strong a statement of reckless and abandon of function. Let us say that if there was something you wanted to leave the world, as a disappointing message, you could do worse than doing it in a place where all others are moving at 60-70 MPH. This part of the world I own because I am existing in defiance of all expectations for this part of the world, I am doing the opposite of what this was planned for, I am creating what should not be created where it should not be created YOU CANNOT OWN ME.

I think my peace comes largely from the fact that I am aware that I am not a lightweight. I’m not an expert on nearly anything, but I am educated enough on many things so that I know my opinion cannot be lightly brushed aside. I’m right often enough that I know others should think long and deeply before rejecting my thoughts. I can’t answer your questions but you might ask me to put in my two cents at some point. That makes me happy. That makes me peaceful. I think I am worth existing.

If it is illusion, what kind of bastard would take that away? Try it all. Refuse it, say it is a lie, love it, embrace it, do anything you can, it will help, I promise it will help.

Home again...

Maggie and I are officially the coolest couple ever. She’s a teacher and a student, delightful little closed loop, but there are ONLY SO MANY HOURS IN THE DAY.

She asked me recently why she had to choose between being an elementary school teacher, a middle school councilor, a math specialist and an education specialist. As an exercise in practicality, something I've been working on, I pointed say she only taught the elementary school kids until lunch, she wouldn’t get to the middle school to counsel until 1 or so. Then she’d probably have to run off to her math specialist job by say 2:30, which means by the time she got around to being an educational specialist MOST of the kids would have gone home. Not that that wouldn’t make the job a lot easier, an education specialist who doesn’t have anyone's education to worry about, I just think it’s impractical. Plus it leaves a whole elementary school class just wandering around by itself for an afternoon and THAT is a recipe for trouble.

Anyway, she does both these things, so on Wednesday for example she teaches her class until 3, after school tutors until 4, and then runs off to be a student---I don’t know exactly the hours of this but she returns home around 8. If she has a drug habit, something I fantasize about to make my life more exciting, somewhere in there would be the hours she indulges in it.

That’s fine. As for me, I take Greek or Hebrew MWF, from which I am not home AND free until 2, 2, and 1 respectively. After that it’s the work to make sure I don’t embarrass myself in front of these people who teach me. And then it’s my turn to be a teacher—Literature and English Vocabulary. I am comforted by the fact that my students, at least, will be fine no matter how poorly I advance them in these subjects. Nevertheless.

The point is, thanks to Maggie’s selfishness in her attempt to educate her twenty seven little babies, and the selfishness of people like her all over the educational map, I can’t get any teaching in until five or six because begod the runts are at their own schools. This means I work until 7 or 8.

I know you see where I’m going with this. If our paths do intersect during the week it’s in that lovely hour known as eight, a full hour and a half after what was once known as the witching hour among folks who went to bed a lot earlier than we do. Presumably because they had less websites to visit for the hundredth needless time.

What you don’t know is how we spend that time, and I’ll remedy that lack. Maggie’s a tired gal, she usually gets up around 5:30, a full 13 hours before that time once known as the witching etc. More or less we watch a TV show and she falls asleep on my shoulder.

She’s actually, for my money, the world champion at functioning while actually asleep so it was much to my benefit that I came to recognize the tone of voice which means “I’m talking but nobody’s home”. This kept me from communicating useful information at those times and also cleared the way for a whole host of entertaining one way conversations in which I could reliably depend on semi-appropriate responses.

Don’t get me wrong, I'm also sleepy, but less sleepy, and that makes me look cool, which I appreciate it.

Friday nights are date nights, which we enjoy sincerely, for we have wonderful dates, but on some level I think we both also consider it code for “we’re both pretty tired from the week and wouldn’t mind going to bed early. Let’s not let anyone else into our party who might try to make us do anything fun past, say 10:30”

Saturdays are usually normal days for normal youths! Are we youths?

And then Sunday is getting ready for Monday.

So to sum up, Maggie and I are the coolest.

Fall lingering in the edges of the sky now. I’ll be honest, I always thought of the sky as a kind of giant blue sheet, hiding God’s fort which looks pretty much like the ones we used to arrange out of chairs and sheets ourselves, in the living room. But when the seasons change I think they diffuse from around the sheet's corners, sent up to the majors, and I can feel it, when the evenings starts to dissolve rather than disappear. I think Samuel Beckett called it Echo’s Bones, referring to the nymph who slowly disappeared until nothing remained but her voice. Fall could do worse than be a voice bouncing through emptiness, it would make time seem purposeful.

It is purposeful, I’m sure, though it doesn't bother me either way. And yet I find myself against odds not more than a little worried about the future. Between you and me whenever they ask me what I’m going to be when I grow up, and I do have a pretty good answer these days, I still feel like I already am it only with so much to learn that has nothing to do with academics. Maybe if they phrased the question differently, I would feel the anxiety I need to.

Do you know what I mean? Hats are accessories, you put them on to make you look better, not because you’re to become all hat.

The sky seems so much bigger as the hands close around it.