Today my brother is being transferred to a rehab facility. In a pique of helplessness, I ordered him a diffuser and some jasmine oil — to elevate his mood? When what he needs are electrical stimulators or computer driven exercise devices?
His impatience to GET ON WITH IT will serve him well and it may not necessarily shorten the length of his recovery. So much remains up in the air.
Listening to old Tippet interview with Vincent Harding on dog walk. A few takeaways:
- To label the justice movement as one centering on “civil rights” is to fall very short of MLK Jr’s vision of the “beloved community.”
- Stories are essential
- We need to seek out our wise elders
The commotion of limb removal next door, believe it or not, refreshes my grief at Michelle’s passing. Even tho she lived in Manhattan and I dwell in a leafy suburb, we both frequently felt assaulted by noise. My commiserator in chief. I still can’t believe she’s gone.
Re-reading passages from Virginia Woolf’s diaries this week, a little light bulb went on. Here’s my insight: Jude Hill has a distinctly Woolfian sensibility and that may be why I felt so instantly drawn to her. Listen:
- All I mean to make is a note of a curious state of mind.
- My theory being the actual event practically does not exist — nor time either.
- I wrote this partly in order to slip the burden of writing narrative
- I want to sort out all the ideas that have accumulated in me.
The complete collection of Woolf’s novels got away from me at some point. I regret that. Reading her in college was like opening a door to myself. Big time.
Confession: I once took a pack of colored pencils to a copy of The Waves and appropriately highlighted all the color words. I’m sure I had a reason.
Interestingly, I now prefer more “straight up” narratives. A product of aging no doubt. Ask me if I care.
British crime novels, it is!
No really, I’m working my way through Kate Atkinson’s Jackson Brody series.
Sibling insurance questions call. Redux.