the silence drowned out by garbage

just thinking how tiring it is to converse with crazy people on the internet. participating means getting dragged into some kind of hell. then i remember that years ago, i used to frequent a bass guitar forum, before realizing it's a waste of time to talk so much about playing an instrument. just get out and play.

nowadays, the cacophony leads me to retreat. yet here i am in a coffee shop, intending to catch up on my Gospel of Thomas writing, but not a sense-gap can arise over the music blasting in my ear, pouring emotion and beep-boops at me, while the people nearby speak of important deals and technological innovation.

looking up, what an amazingly clear sky! the sun having set, soon a crisp, moonless sky will strike unease in me when i return home, to a quiet spot.

how could all this compare to the sky at twilight? a cruel joke.

response to Lao Tzu

So when the Way is lost,
that’s when we resort to virtue.
When virtue is lost,
that’s when we resort to humaneness.
When humaneness is lost,
that’s when we resort to morality and righteous justice.
And when righteous justice is lost,
that’s when we resort to ceremonies of propriety.
Lao Tzu

Without the Tao,
making your bed becomes meaningless routine,
a justice blanket
over a false sincerity sheet
dress yourself in purple robes
and dream of high and low.

Finding the Way,
sleep naked under a New Moon
growing moss for warmth
justice and kindness arise thusly
going to market: a noble ceremony
unbeknownst to you.

Gospel of Thomas

I'm posting my commentary/interpretation of The Gospel of Thomas, hopefully every day, unless there's something I can't understand!

It gets interesting towards the middle...

in the theater last night

The mouth-breathing couple behind me seemed never to have set foot in a theater before. Aside from snoring while (apparently) awake, they felt compelled to give their internal commentary in real time:

"oh, it looks sad."
"why are their pants pulled up so high?"
"how do you think it'll end?"
"I've been thinking about it, and I bet it'll be sad."

After the lights turned back on, their two teenage (maybe college age) boys ambled over to give their two cents:

"I wish I had gone to see Anchorman instead."
"It was weird."
"That was too deep for me."
"I was like, I didn't know whether to feel bad for the guy or not. Because it was weird."

During the movie, I stopped myself from turning around to snap at them because I felt such pity – for their restricted breathing and restricted thinking. I only hope something sunk in for them.

Later, the image of a perc test came to mind (I've been doing too much land research). It's a measure of how quickly water absorbs into the soil, and it's necessary to determine what kind of septic system will work on that particular land. If the water absorbs too slowly, the septic system will have to be built up from huge amounts of imported sand, a very costly operation. If the test is bad enough, it may not be worthwhile or possible to build at all.

I wonder if there's a percolation test for people; I suspect there is, but it's not so quantifiable, unfortunately. That family last night clearly wasn't worth building upon, but maybe, just maybe, some of the water seeped down, to touch them later in life. At least the kids were young enough that there's still time for them to outgrow Anchorman.

What does it take?


To take care of a bomb, either:

Cut the red wire
Blow it up with another bomb
Walk away, laughing.