0ver 90 degrees, in fact.
Hot.
I walked down to Soho and beyond and hit Orchard Street. Meh. Then I came back up to Flatiron. Better. Mebbe. I have to find a place to sit indoors and be cool for a while.
First of all, I’m tremendously, tremendously late. That may have something to do with my having gone to bed at 3.00 in the morning.
Next, it’s my last day for the June class and also my last day at work before leaving.
We don’t know about the place yet, it’s today that G— is supposed to let us know.
Also, while my lovely other half is in the Czech Republic we are so far unable to communicate by voice, so it has been several days since we were last able to speak, something that hasn’t happened in months.
All in all it’s a tremendously surreal day. It does not match in any way a “normal” day.
§ As you get older, the ghosts become more real than anything else.
§ Under the leaves, soil. Under the soil, stone. Under the stone, souls.
§ Radically empowering individuals in society may be the worst mistake we ever made.
§ Want to be a radical? Refuse to suffer. Then, wait for the assault.
§ Goodbye 2017, part two. (The real part.)
§ Sometimes you find home where you’ve never been—and you dwell where you aren’t.
§ The self can’t play Atlas for postmodernity because science is now supernatural.
§ Rehab is universal. So is history.
§ Identity, transcendence, and tactics.
§ Untitled. (a.k.a. Pretty faces, new old photos.)