Pic of the day: "We weren't lovers like that and besides it would
still be all right."
First, I want to apologize for yesterday's entry. I was very tired when I wrote it, and so it was a bit more honest than I had intended. Not that I want to tell lies in my diary, but the barest semblance of editing would have been nice. At least I got the picture changed before uploading the thing. Gaah.
Today the voices in my head sing "Sisters of Mercy" by Leonard Cohen.
(Well, actually there is only my own voice, but it still sings "Sisters
of Mercy".) I love this song off and on. It is frighteningly accurate.
However, the lines that repeat in my head today are from the second
Contrary to popular opinion, it is possible to somewhat control our thoughts and emotions. There is a whole world inside your head, and you can go there. There are many kinds of meditation that are not even known as such. For instance, my pietist friends have a voluntary practice of "binding the mind to God's word". Basically they take a small fragment from the Bible, preferably not too obvious. During the day - or several days, as needed - you will return to this verse whenever you have your mind free. Instead of daydreaming, making plans, living in the past, fantasizing or mulling over things others have said to you. If you discover that your mind has been wandering, you just place it back on the Word again. Notice how this bears a striking similarity to meditation.
Of course, the final question is: If you can control your feelings and your thoughts, who can control you? Indeed, who or what are you? If you can - over time - change and rebuild yourself, who is doing the rebuilding? That is a scary line of thought.
In the evening, on my way home, I shopped some groceries. I hope to be up and about tomorrow to buy more, but I filled one plastic bag. I bought the stuff I use to buy: Low-fat milk, lots of yoghurt, a bread, Jaffa Cakes (chocolate covered orange sponge cookies), and today also low-fat margarine. (The old box was practically empty.)
I stopped to look at the fruit disks. There were a lot of strange tropical fruits, some of which I had never even seen the name of before, best I know. There were fruits from Africa and South America and Malaysia, and small signs trying to explain how they tasted and what they were best suited for. But being a very non-adventurous person, I bought none of them. Not even the fruits from Israel which looked slightly like a tomato but smelled more like an apple and was reddish-orange and was called Sharon. I bet they must be sweet, with that name! :) But there was no explanation near them, and I've never heard of a fruit called Sharon before.
Hey, the doorbell just rang. It was the wife of the landlord - may they both live forever - who came by with a two liter box of vanilla ice. I don't particularly like vanilla ice, but she doesn't know that and it was sure a nice thing to do. They've had a great trip, she told me. Good weather and good driving conditions.
I just listened to what I tend to think of as "the dog song", but which is actually the victory melody of the old computer game "Supremacy - your will be done". It is an extremely uplifting melody, at least to my brain structure. In the past it would often start to play in my head when I felt particularly high on emotion, and that's why I call it "the dog song", because of the nonsense texts I made to get along with it, and which were always about small poodle dogs. I find small poodles hilarious.
Anyway... While listening to the Supremacy theme melody and looking at the Starfield screen saver, I got this sinking feeling that I know how my latest novel will end. That's sort of bad news. I usually don't know how my stories will end. Why would I write them if I already knew them? Oh well, there could always be a sequel.
Yes, I've been writing a little bit of Thaumaturge again. In today's chapter, our hero and the Female Main Character are out touring the Great American Mall. Things are taking a turn for the worse as our hero uses the Glitterpower(TM) frivolously, and why does a pizza taste so much better when you are broke than when you have half a million dollar to burn?
I just found a scrap of paper, must be years old, on which I have scribbled: "Enzyme is some stuff in all living things, which makes the impossible possible." There is no context, and I have no idea who said it. And on a small piece of cardboard I have written in quotes: "It is so incredible to be delicious together with you." I think I recognize that style of misspeak (she meant to say "it's so incredibly delicious") but I suspect it's severely out of context. :)
Visit the Diary Farm for the older diaries I've put out to pasture.