Box

I'm pretty tired. Tired of being weak, and soft, and slow, and old. Tired of not being the man I should have been. Tired of not sleeping. Tired of eating, and not eating. Tired of myself. Tired of loneliness. So that's a list of things to be depressed about.

And I have always inclined to melancholy. The eternal adolescent.

But I have been happy today. I'm a little goofy, and that makes me tender toward myself. I won't do that I'm tougher on myself than on anyone else thing. All that would mean is that I'd be unfair to everyone. And even though I'm just now trying to figure out what to do with my time, I'm doing some useful stuff. And for the first time in my adult life I have a friend. Isn't that pathetic? But it's been a choice, no denying it. Pathos is a choice.

Over the weekend I built a thing that does a thing in a good way. Nothing I do is pretty, but I build to last. And it's a good design. Simple and utilitarian. Efficient. Form following function in a feng shui way. If you ask very very nicely I may, may allow you to see a picture. I have a television phone from the future now, that takes and transmits photographs to computers and other devices. But on second thought, no, I'm not going to show you. Your admiration would be insufficiently informed to appreciate it to the degree it merits. That's my biggest problem. Even I don't admire myself enough.

I know you miss me, only a little. Justice, earn, deserve -- the meanings are so close.

I don't know yet what to do with this idea: After Pandora opened Pandora's box, and every dark thing poured out, and one bright thing, hope ... what happened to the box? Somehow, I think, it must be hell. Because for all that there is no horror left in it, there is no hope either. And hell is where there is no hope.

J