Inhere

Is it strange that I feel that I am in a perpetual regression? My ideals grow ever clearer and yet drift ever farther away.

Much to update on, but at the end of the day, life is pretty regular. I’m reading William James at the moment. I’m connecting with him in wondrous ways. He’s a pragmatist. [no triumph for the philosopher. claims and obligations. obligations and claims. What is good and what is demanded and the birth of ideals. distilling the essence of human history into an abstract and vague unitary system of ethics.]

I had fall break last week. I drank heavily on Wednesday night, woke at 7am, and drove 8 hours to Chicago with a few college pals. All day Thursday we visited the city, walking the entire loop and eventually ended up at The Second City comedy club. The following day we played cranium and vegetated from the previous nights debaucheries. Sunday we drove home.

Obviously I’ve have many thoughts between my last entry and this one here. I had thought about getting them out, but I made the decision to let them smolder and fume inside my gut. Perhaps I thought the discomfort would move me in some way.

There are the easy going moods and the strenuous moods. Easy going moods simply allow us to shirk from our current ills, where complacency veils and sunders our senses. Strenuous moods allow us to become indifferent to these ills, allowing us to justify moment by moment creations and impacts. We grab at the essence and wrestle till functionality exists.

I am too easy going at the moment. I need fire. I need dissatisfaction to blow a luculent hole through my head so I can wake from this stupor.

I have so much on my mind, but I inhibit the thought and feelings out of fear.