A Bird of Paradise

Six o’clock.

Predawn blackness outside, but I think I’m through with sleeping for the night…

Nine thirty. Now I have chronic back pain, getting worse when it rains. I’m going to need medication for it. I’ll go to the store when I feel hungry… The question is simple: is there a transcendent, and can it be reached by imagination? I also wonder if psychosis is merely an altered state of consciousness, no less valid than the ordinary. Does schizophrenia serve a purpose by being allowed to survive in the gene pool?

Ten thirty. I made it to the market where Brandi sold me a salad, a Hot Pocket, and two Snapples. My back ached the whole way. I didn’t stop at the salon for whatever reason. I get the feeling that my days are numbered in some sense. Something somewhere has to break. I just got one of those scam calls regarding my vehicle’s warranty. There’s no end to this stuff… I have a beautiful edition in English of Goethe’s writings that I could examine anytime. It’s just hard for me to concentrate for very long. For now, there’s a Beatles song looping in my head from Sgt Pepper. I feel doubtful about getting everything done this weekend. Perhaps church on Sunday is higher priority than band practice Saturday, though I don’t want to let those guys down. If I work up my enthusiasm it might go all right, but all in all I feel very tired of everything. Maybe I can transcend the mundane with an excursion into Goethe today sometime. I hear an unfamiliar bird call from the backyard, like a summons to Paradise, an Eden outside of time…



Six o’clock. Damien was here and we talked after he was done. At the same time that he was working, the mail carrier brought my Goethe book and left it on the porch. Things were kind of coordinated this afternoon, like synchronicity. I opened the package and sat down with the book, examining the quality of the translations and editing. It is a thing of beauty. The Introduction looks very well done. I wonder if my malaise is caused more by the lockdown and loneliness than medication issues? I’ve been going stir crazy, so restless for people to talk with. Damien is a smart guy who builds race cars. He described me as being a bit out there, like himself. He said that most people in his age group have no clue. Said he was in deep with economics. He strikes me as a person with keen insight into the way of the world… The splendor of the new Goethe book rekindles the enthusiasm I had for books in 1994. When I turned it to the opening pages of Faust, I saw a resemblance to my own life and personality. The thirst for perfect wisdom has motivated me since my illness set in. Today, in the luscious spring sunshine, I’ve had an awakening, a revival of my college experience. There’s no one else to quash it, either.