Readability Index: Unreadable

The readability index is really losing its value as I haven’t written but maybe three posts I would consider readable. I try to mark them readable if I wouldn’t mind reading them on a day when I was only going to read like five blog posts. But I should probably start writing at least one readable blog post for every three unreadables.

But anyway this is the morning. Finally at another morning where I’ve got time before work to do whatever I want. It’s a crazy feeling that I can’t quite grasp. When you can do anything, you might as well do nothing. It’s like that question about eternity. If you knew you were going to live forever, would you do everything you ever wanted to do starting right now, or would you put it off since you’ve got eternity. It’s a funny question because in the scope of eternity both options are exactly the same. Because you always have just as much time to do all the things you wanted to do as when you started. But of course, them that put it off will never do it. I’m pretty much in that category.

Well shit my stats are getting out of control here. That little bar in the left hand corner of the screen is starting to look pretty respectable.

I feel pretty sober right now. Feel pretty dead. But not in the way that I did last night. I’m pretty awake. I went for a walk and it rained. Got soaked. Soaked my jacket and everything so now I’m in the office with the heat up high trying to dry everything before work.

And I’m trying to warm up. Get the fingers going and the mind going right along, but I’m listening to Bob Marley and I’ve got a frown on my face, because I’ve already had to deal with some money issues this morning and that always is a bad start to the day. The thing is I know if I look at my bank account or call some creditors in the morning, I will be down for a while. No getting around it. At the same time, if I don’t call them in the morning, I won’t call them for the rest of the day, so I’ll play the violin and dance around while my financial future burns. Not to imply that it was built as well as Rome. Or even thought about for that matter.

The thrill is gone. That’s a song. But I sort of feel like that right now, though I don’t know why. Blogging has been a revelation. And I have a lot of stuff in my head that I want to get out. But the thrill is gone and it all seems like ash in my mouth. Let me quote from the bible here. Well in a minute. It seems I just had a thought. Maybe it’s because I’m not taking anything in that I can’t put anything out. I have just been pushing content content content and…wait that wasn’t what I meant. I’m just pushing shit out of my mouth…that’s disgusting. I’m just letting this build up of books music and moving pictures out of my fingers onto the page in a surge of random bullshit, and the tsunami that started when I first let loose on the blog has finally subsided. Has finally come to nothing. Subsided is not the right word.

It’s weird I only have two bibles in this room and they are both NIV. King James makes the real shit. Or that’s what I took from Hunter Thompson’s Generationof Swine: Gonzo Papers Vol.2: Tales of Shame and Degradation in the ’80s.

I have stolen more quotes and thoughts and purely elegant little starbursts of writing from the Book of Revelation than anything else in the English language—and it is not because I am a biblical scholar, or because of any religious faith, but because I love the wild power of the language and the purity f the madness that governs it and makes it music.

The next essay in that book is one of the best pieces of writing I have ever read. It’s called Saturday Night in the City. I wish I could just reproduce the whole thing here. Or that I had just written it in the first place. Here are the last lines:

“What do you mean” he said. “you made that poor girl get tattooed? Just for a newspaper story?”

“It was the right thing to do,” I said.”We had no choic. We are, after all, professionals.”

Ecclesiastes 3:18-21:

I also thought: As for men, God tests them so that they may see that they are like the animals. Man’s fate is like that of the animals; the same fate awaits them both: As one dies, so dies the other. All have the same breath, man has no advantage over the nimal. Everything is meaningless. All go to the same place;  all come from dust, and to dust all return. Who knows if the spirit of man rises upward and if the spirit of the animal goes down into the earth?

So I saw that there is nothing better for a man than to enjoy his work, because that is his lot. For who can bring him to see what will happen after him?

Funny that the council of what’s it that made the Christian Bible would want to include Ecclesiastes. The Jews were unconcerned with the afterlife, and still are I suppose, though all I know about Judaism I learned in college so what the hell do I know about it. But this book was written by a Jewish man, and for him the fate of a man was the same as a fate of an animal, death. “Who knows if the spirit of man rises upward…?” That’s not something a Christian would say. But of course, that’s the Old Testament. Anyhow, doesn’t matter, because that’s not the biblical quote I was looking for. I was looking for one of the million that say something about such and such turning to ash in someone’s mouth. I’ll find one later. This quote here is a revelation to me. Or that quote there, rather.

Yes all there is for man to do is work, as that is his lot, and so if that is the case, then one might as well enjoy it.

Well, I seem to have broken from the funk of the morning and the finances.

Misty Morning, can’t see no sun

I know you’re out there somewhere, having fun

There is one mystery, I just can’t express

To give your more, to receive your less

That’s old Bob and shit is really starting to look up around here. Sun just cut through the mist outside the window, I broke a thousand words on the warm up, and philosophy is going through my head light like a feather heavy as lead.