Dearest Sweetest Hearts, and arseholes who too read my pourings and too lazy to say what you have to say, let’s assume that I have lived three thirds of my alloted time (loose roof tiles and car accidents notwithstanding): I am on the home stretch. Which is NOT sad. What is sad, and I can’t forgive myself, that I can’t leave passion, fire in my innards behind. I wish I were … I don’t know … indifferent. That’s it. Indifferent. Fuck most things, little touches me. Bliss. I am indifferent. Fat chance. The grail. I so wish, I so wish … what does it take to become a true Stoic, someone I define as not to be touched by anything (at least on the surface)? It ain’t going to happen.
In fact it’s so bad I am running a parallel blog. Not physically. In my mind. That blog is so full of venom, useful venom, truths you can only dream of. Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the what’s it of them all? Close contest. Most people are tender little plants. To name but two, the biblical Rachel and the Samaritan John of fanny flannel fame (which I find vaguely offensive since he is gay). That I haven’t ripped them apart in their blogs’ constant snivelling is a miracle only attributable to my upbringing, natural tact and that I don’t want them to set Sicilian bulldogs onto me. As long as amusement is mine, and it is, I shall keep that lid on my steam.
Thank you to all of you who gave thought to my last post’s lament. That I am still under the weather after last Sunday’s storm is an understatement. I lost a week in a haze of trying to reconcile reality with my concept (and expectation) of the world. I sometimes wish, indeed pray, I were different (entirely selfish because “different” in this context only means my less hurt/bleeding. Peace).
Slight reprimand to Jean whose riposte to Looney I found a little waspish: Looney is a learned man, Jean. I wouldn’t mind playing squash with him because I’d know from the outset I’d be in the corner by the end of it. Yes, Looney, in the wake of Epictetus you reminded me of an anecdote (same school – Zenos and Chrysippus) and since Jean is fond of dogs maybe appealing, and reconciling, to her too, and chiming in with your, Loony, mentioning the fates:
“The Stoics had an image with which to evoke our condition as creatures, at times able to affect change, yet always subject to external necessities: We are like dogs who have been tied to an unpredictable cart. Our leash is long enough to give us a degree of leeway, yet not long enough to let us wander wherever we please.”