Angry Spiders: Diary, 4/10 to 4/12/22

Self-distraction; talk is cheap; piles of notes; marriage is not a reward quote from Chris Hedges; Bullet Journal; efficiency; screaming; Abraham Joshua Heschel; a dream; restarting the novel.

Photo by Erik Karits on Pexels.com

Copyright 2022 (text only) by Alan Carl Nicoll
All Rights Reserved

{4/10/22} Continued.

Nothing has changed except my mood; but my best answer to that [“the end is near” mood] was, “Look what Puppy is doing!”  Can’t I distract myself with fiction writing?  I can have characters talk about it—is that a good thing to work on?  What’s the story arc?  What’s the outcome?  Do we need another On the Beach?

{4/11/22}

Call from Pablo this morning.  He wants to borrow money and to talk.  I will let him have twenty.  Talk is cheap; nothing will come of it.

{4/12/22}

I note many things “to save them,” yet the notes pile up, and what will happen to them when I’m dead?  Landfill.  If I type them in here, there is perhaps a greater chance that they will be saved—but to what end?

In a post-it note on my desk this morning I see, “Marriage is a sacrament.  It is not a reward for being heterosexual.”  This is from Chris Hedges’ father, from his last sermon.  A good quote.  So?  Do I need a good quote arguing for something that I already believe?  Who is there to debate the question?  And if there were anyone to debate the question, would I even want to talk to them, and would the quote persuade them?  Assuming the obvious answers to these questions, then of what value is the quote?  But these are foolish questions—it’s enough that I value the quote.

On the same scrap is this:  “Defense of Marriage Act.  97 MB 3:27” and “10-codes” and “ASL with Fireese; My Smart Hands; Truthout 4/12/22.”  Fireese is on You Tube, and I guess My Smart Hands is also.  The Truthout date might be the date I subscribed, in which case, it will perhaps be the date (12th of the month) when subsequent payments will be taken.  That, at least, is worth knowing.

Conclusion?  I need to take better notes, or make use of them before they’re stone cold.  I have stacks of such notes, probably amounting to an inch-thick pile.  I go through them occasionally (less than once a month) but rarely do anything with them.  I also do take better notes, but these are in notebooks…not necessarily an improvement.

Not the one I bought

I might do well to throw away all unused post-it notes, and have around me only notebooks.  At least it would be less clutter.  And this is the primary purpose of the Bullet Journal method, as described by Ryder Carroll.  I have six little notebooks, my version of the BuJo.  Actually, seven (the two-year calendar serves one of the functions of the BuJo).  Two previous notebooks got filled and are stored away.  How very efficient.

Many of the notes are potential additions to my book; these, at least, should all go into one place, and there is a file for them, but the file is on the computer, and thus is inconvenient to access when I’m reading in the other room.  I have a notebook labeled “Projects”—I should devote a small section to “Additions to Kick Me” (the title of the book, a memoir).  As they get transferred to the “notes file” on the computer (or, shockingly, to the book itself), then I can cross them off in the notebook.

An op-ed from Truthout, dated yesterday, is titled, “If the State of the World Makes You Want to Scream, You’re Not Alone” (link).  The final line reads, “So, let’s scream together: F*** this entire indifferent, hypocritical and violent world!”  I think there’s enough screaming, both in the world and in my neighborhood, which is a poor neighborhood.  But the op-ed is surely worth reading, if only to make the acquaintance of Abraham Joshua Heschel.  The truth is, I only skimmed the piece, and ignored many paragraphs altogether, but the bit about Heschel is good.

Shall I make a note of it?

I have tossed the post-it that I quoted above.  Another small victory for efficiency.

I had a dream this morning:  I was in an organized crowd, for some purpose like college enrollment or job counseling.  I went with my crowd down a narrow passageway, but we encountered another crowd which was assembled to hear a speaker, and they blocked our route.  My crowd dispersed, and I ended up with a friend and a woman I didn’t know.  The woman, who was beyond her youth and above her ideal weight but attractive, said something about something, then addressed me, saying, “I want to kiss you.”  I thought about my hirsute face, thinking of saying something like, “You want to kiss this Brillo pad?”  And thinking, “I am a garden gnome.”  (I have found that such thinking while dreaming is a good sign that I am on the verge between sleeping and waking.)  But we ended up kissing, chastely, on the mouth.  Then I realized that the fingers of my left hand were sort of in her butt crack.  That’s it.  I have never experienced a situation like that one.

After waking, I noted some things in my BuJo:

What I want to say to Olivia:  “Do you have any idea how much we all want to kiss you?”  Also:  “Here’s our spring breeze.”  [And] “I’d be content just to kiss your hand.”

This morning’s dream was a careless grabbing of bits from my brain.

Without quite meaning to, I restarted TLC [the novel I’ve been struggling with for months] yesterday, writing in first person.

The change to first person will make the writing easier, which is not necessarily a good thing in the long run—it tends to encourage self-indulgence.  [Novel text deleted, sorry.]

One of the self-indulgent things I wrote was about “angry spiders.”  Turns out that this is a “thing.”  Check your favorite search engine if you’re curious.  BTW, I’ve switched from Google to DuckDuckGo, because the latter claims not to “track” you.

Copyright 2022 (text only) by Alan Carl Nicoll
All Rights Reserved

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