head full of quandary
I sound a bit emo when I say that. I don’t really have a head full of quandary – no more than usual, anyway – we were just listening to Hissing of Summer Lawns, which started this. And having lamb shanks. Which is now the new Monday night thing. Sitting down to unhurried food, completely offline. (Don’t tut. I know how it sounds.)
I am on a glue break. I have to do do screen-gluing in small doses. Not for fear of asphyxiation (it’s not that kind of glue) – just because it’s fucking boring.
Things I thought about today:
capital G god
So I got most of the way through an article online today. That in itself is not remarkable (and neither is what follows, by the way). I was thinking it was pretty good. I was thinking, this is pretty well researched and constructed. Then capital G god came into it and all credibility was ruined. I stopped reading, suddenly cross. My attention span went the way of my hand-me-down, standing-on-last-legs faith in an instant. (I should probably say, though, that the faith itself took much longer to go, whittled back to whatever it is now over a course of maybe 20 years.)
Admittedly, the kind of stuff I was reading does occasionally have capital G god come into it. I usually let my eyes glaze over in those bits and read on, looking for the out. It’s really only when I’m not given an out that my heathen heckles start to give me grief. It’s not the going to hell part that irks me. I’m pretty well reconciled with that. It’s the you duped me into thinking this was a rational argument and then you brought capital G god into it thing. I’m sort of regretting bringing god/God into this, now that I think about it.
the tiny parcel that arrived in the mail for me today, wrapped in brown paper
I didn’t know who it was from. It was tightly sellotaped, a cardboard pillbox. Inside there were two spoons for my spoonboard, from Pam and Dusty. One was from Mahora School and the other from Whanganui (at least I think that’s what it said – the writing is pretty small). I hung them up straight away. Not many people make a good spoon these days. Not many people send me carefully wrapped parcels wrapped in brown paper these days.
dead-of-night panic (& the dangerous allure of internet wisdom)
What I [maybe] discovered today, drifting noncommitally in a long thin tide of search results, is that the most common time to awaken to night anxiety is around 3am. Apparently it’s the witching hour for the subliminally mentally frazzled. I don’t know whether to store this information away somewhere safe or chuck it back into the miles of surf like a frayed tennis ball. I don’t know how much to read into my weekly 3am wakeups now. Pure coincidence, or something more emotionally sinister afoot? Who knows. And do I really need to…
I should really get back to the glue thing.
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