Awoken

Quarter after eight.

It’s another beautiful day, and I feel rather restless. My thoughts are a jumble, concerned mostly with individual freedom. I was educated in the ‘80s, and now my schemas are challenged by a time that refutes them. I’m not sure how to characterize these times, but to me it seems that we’re all lip locked to a great extent. Our eyes are open, but our mouths are sewn shut. I wonder why that is? Perhaps social media is just a fickle thing, and ultimately silly and useless. It’s especially dumb if you can’t say what you mean. On this note of frustration, I guess I’ll call my sister… No good. She has other things to do. One of her dogs needs to see the vet… Funny how I still believe in Freud while the world has gone exclusively Christian.

Nine forty. By now my maple tree has turned completely golden. It’s very pretty outside. My thoughts dwell on conformity and this thing called society. It bugs me a little. Attitudes toward individuality have changed over the years, unless it’s only my own attitude that has changed. Benjamin Franklin made a drawing of a cut up snake with the caption, “Join, or die.” The way of the world is going religious, so I suppose surrender to this is all right. Then again, a famous drummer said that when no schools for jazz exist, you form one. The same is true of all disciplines… I feel like Rip Van Winkle, asleep for thirty years, then suddenly awoken and returned to his village. Didn’t he drink a potent brew as well? All the more appropriate. Alcohol can do that to you: cut you off from your culture, sever you from society. In the past, I kept the front drapes always closed. At this point, the social rays of sunshine are just beginning to reach me. 

Family Hopes

Five thirty five. Well, the weather has been beautiful today. And seeing it through sober eyes must surely make a difference from times in the past. Erin and Lisa, the receptionist, were both very friendly to me today. It tends to give me a new opinion of Santa Clara, or maybe the medical offices in the Square form a pocket in an otherwise “red” zone. Or perhaps my first assessment of River Road north of the Beltline was a fallacy. Which indicates again the dangers of generalization. People are people everywhere you go, diverse and various. I am more open now to letting my family pick my brain if they are curious about things. I believe that it’s possible for all of us to adopt an objective point of view, to not be passionately committed to just one side of any given issue. In this way, there can be a free exchange of ideas and the potential for growth and greater understanding. The only obstacle to this mutual comprehension is alcohol abuse or some other extravagance. In other words, the truth and happiness we work for mustn’t be compromised by a lie in any form. Mendacity and delusion always pose a threat to the good life. Of course no individual is perfect, but at least we can work on progress. 

Open Doors

Two thirty five in the morning.

I couldn’t sleep any longer, so I got up. It seemed to me that the Eugene population is being thinned of Mexican people, so I did a little research with Google. I learned about an agency called ICE, a division of Homeland Security. But most of the articles I found were from last year. Who knows what’s happening right now? I only know that I don’t see many Mexican people locally anymore. They used to be very visible. One of them overcharged me to do my yard work all through the Obama presidency. The alternative was to hire a white guy who charged even more, and who insisted on a contract that would last a year… I don’t know what to think about the current isolationist attitude of the United States. We don’t want anything to do with the rest of the world. It’s a formula for stagnation and cultural poverty. Republicans don’t perceive it that way, caring only about money— a huge mistake. My life was a lot richer when I had a friend from abroad. She introduced me to Roxy Music and Bryan Ferry— the whole ‘70s glam genre in the UK. John Wetton played bass guitar brilliantly on Ferry’s solo album. Was it only a dream? A lot can happen in eight to ten years. The trend I see is the social withdrawal of America, so how can we really understand what it means to be fully human? We can learn a lesson from the life and writings of Henry James, the American expatriate who enriched literature forever. And from The Beatles and the British Invasion of the ‘60s, and again from New Wave in the ‘80s… The same sun shines on the rest of the world as on America. It makes no sense to put up walls. 

Strange Days

Nine o’clock. I had a dream thought while lying in bed half asleep: my optic nerves did something odd and I believed I was hooked up to WiFi. My brain was connected to the internet and I didn’t even need a device to send messages. And while there’s something messed up about that, all of my friends are in cyberspace these days. The people I know locally don’t have a similar worldview to mine. Love computers or loathe them, I have technology to thank for the friends I currently keep.

It was a strange day, but then every day seems stranger than the last when you stay sober and take the “thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.” The air is again smoky from the California wildfires. You see people going around everywhere in a face covering from the virus. And the same radio station that plays Alice In Chains also does “Owner of a Lonely Heart.” If it didn’t, then somebody would feel left out of the oversoul airwaves. 

Reply to Mr Brewster

Based on your concluding sentence, your precepts are something like John Calvin, who said that our salvation or perdition is preordained by God, and nothing you can do will ever change your fate. All the good works you do won’t make a bit of difference.

If any part of you is still interested in happiness, then you might want to change or rearrange your basic assumptions. Off the top of my head I can only recommend listening to a Yes song titled “I’m Running.” If nothing else, just read the lyric. Even if you can’t be happy, remember that the future is about our children’s lives.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q4KnMgNVISw

Music Is a Bridge

It was weird the way my mind blended the two Marks into one. Obviously there are big differences between them as well. I think I was being ethnocentric by putting both guys in the category of Jewish people. It is called out group homogeneity, and it happens when two are of a different race. I’m glad I caught myself at it. I wouldn’t want to cause a problem with my responses. I like the people just fine. I can’t imagine how my sister would behave around a Jewish person. I doubt if she ever met one. She is the type to go round spouting to Jewish people how Jesus liberated them from having to follow all those rules. I know one man in my church who considers Jewish people perfidious. I really cringe at that. Occasionally there’s a song about the Pharisees, or the Jews from the time of Christ who never converted. Also cringeworthy. Sadducees were similar. This is a song we teach to the children! So now I have to turn a deaf ear to it or throw out the baby with the bath water if I keep playing music with my new friend. It tempts me to just be secular again. I don’t like being in a tight spot between people. But it’s mostly just the one guy who scorns Jews. I don’t have to listen to him much. I really just have to act on instinct. Music is an activity that usually unites sundry people because music itself has no ideology. The most intelligent bands don’t discriminate according to race and ethnicity, color and creed, and so on. They have one thing in common, and that’s the music. So I think of music as being a bridge between different peoples, creating harmony at once literal and social.