Friday, December 31, 2010


Sometimes I sleep in my clothes. Sometimes I don't eat all day long.

It hasn't been such a bad year. It hasn't been a bad year at all, in fact, I just realize. It was a hellish decade, but it's over, and I'm close to over it. It takes a sort of callousness, to move on from grief. It feels like a betrayal, an abandonment of faithfulness. But that's just stupid. Loyal to what? A memory? An idea? Not to a person. The people are gone, one way or another. Gone for a decade, mostly. So it's loyalty to an emotion, nonadaptive, malignant. Meant to be gone through, not to be stuck in.

But some people go mad. Some don't. Some waiver in between. Some are sensitive, some loyal, some hard, some practical, some foolish. More and more I argue for practical. I've seen what idealism does. I think it's a kind of insanity. Reality matters. The further we deviate from it, the more deviant we are. Be real. The counterbalance to reality is not idealism. It's honesty, because honesty doesn't stop at the surface, but uses integrity to discern what is true. Truth doesn't move from right to left, but as it were from up to down. It has depth. That way, where ever you start from, right, or left, or practical or idealistic, you dig down to the truth. So, as for grief, well, move on.

It's been an expensive decade. I suffered a lot of loss, burned a lot of bridges. Scorched earth policy. I had no friends, no community ties, no property that wasn't movable. I've been a transient in my life, however stable my location. Now I'm settled solidly into middle age, not open to change, socially and emotionally stunted. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I have need of a savior.

God is pure power, not chaotic, unformed, but the motive force of existence. The Word emanates from God as light comes from the sun -- they are not separable. The Spirit is the light by which we see, reflected, actualizing -- it is the heat that allows, and is, life. The Word, Logos, is communicative rationality. Since God is love, love is rational, and rationality encompasses love, as sun and sunlight and sight and heat are not cause and effect, but outflowing manifestations of one single and pure thing.

Today I did a little strength workout, deadlifts and back squats, getting back into it as I have said. Tomorrow I will do some rowing. I don't have access to a treadmill, upon which I like to run intervals. I do have access to a rower, so I'm transposing my running into a rowing program. 6 to 10 250m rows, one minute rests, maintaining a steady pace, speed increasing over sessions and weeks. I've done a bit of testing, and settled on a current pace of 55 seconds per 250m. I'll run through the 6-10 cycle at that pace, then see what's reasonable in terms of speeding it up. I've done a lot of running, and no rowing at all, and even through there's a transfer of benefits, I can't expect too much. My first ever 1000 meters was 3:36, which seems to be pretty good. But it left me on the floor for 4 minutes -- 250 seem more manageable. 3:15 is top 10% of serious rowers; under 3 minutes is top 10 in the world -- or at least on the Concept II site for this season. So my mid-range goal is 3:15. Take 21 seconds off my first effort. Seems doable. Something like a 9% improvement, if my instant math is right.

Of course, I haven't played with the damper setting yet. So far, dead center. We shall see. Only a handful have beaten 3 minutes. Well?

Therefore I will continue to sublimate my wayward and misapplied energies into the physical. It's not really meaningful, since we decline inevitably with great age. But I am not at a great age, and the decline need start only from the peak, the genetic limit, which hardly anyone attains. I make no resolutions. My resolve is not dependent on dates. It is just as arbitrary, and dates do matter, somehow, but I'd like people to become more important to me. Real people, who are actually in my life. Yesterday I played with some little kids, for example. Oh yes, it's work. But good.

And it's been a good year, actually. Not actually profitable, and with long rather unpleasant hours. But worthwhile. A very good year.


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