Wee hours.
I wish I’d hear from my sister so my imagination would not be free to dream up silly scenarios. The only method for determining truth is ocular proof: evidence. And there’s no evidence for the existence of a faculty of intuition. Telepathy is a chimera, merely wishful thinking. Imagination leads people astray of reality like nothing else; and yet some people prefer the illusion of dreamland because it’s pleasing and poetic— like being drunk. Why is sobriety undesired by so many of us? But only when you are sober are you empowered, endowed with freedom and responsibility… I will try to call Polly again this morning when the hour is decent. My guesswork about her feelings will likely prove to be wrong, yet still the silence from her is deafening: what if I was right?
In the meantime I can read Nietzsche on his idea of “power.” I believe it bears a resemblance to Sartre’s “responsibility” notions. I’ve already decided against church today because we’re back to wearing a mask again for Sunday worship. A mask for a masquerade. I’m sick of this crap. I read a headline that says Canada is opening its borders to the United States on Monday. I wonder if things are any better to the north of us? I’d love to see Victoria again. Just like old times. Take a road trip through Washington to Port Angeles… if I had a car.
robgradens 