Wednesday, July 24, 2013


I didn't wake up in the best of moods this morning. I know. You've heard that before. I got a text from Iris.

I: How r u?
SA: Lost. Sad. Disappointed. Fearful. Confused.

And there you go. Then I stumbled onto Jeff Nunokawa's FB post of this morning.

4437. "Faults are unhappy virtues" (L. Feuerbach)

July 23, 2013 at 4:23am
Faults are unhappy virtues--virtues that lack only the opportunity to show themselves as such ("Characteristics of My Philosophical Development").

Even unhappiness itself can learn to become a kind of virtue: intent on getting past all the fault lines to let the unhappiness of others know that it's never really alone.
Note: bound up with another . . . life (George Eliot, Middlemarch)

Faults are something I muse on often. I feel as if I have more than my share. Mine are insidious, to me, at least. Or some of them are quite surprising to me. Dismay dismay dismay. 

Later I came across this Stephen Jay Gould quote:

The most erroneous stories are those we think we know best -- and therefore never scrutinize or question.


I tried applying this to myself. Things I believe to be true about myself. All this in an effort to understand where I am, what is going on with me, and how to get somewhere else. Many times this seems an impossible task, an insoluble query.

Did you know this:

A study this year found that people reading on a screen tended to skip around more and read less intensively, and plenty of research confirms that people tend to comprehend less of what they read on a screen. The differences are small, but they may explain the persistent appeal of paper. Indeed, hardcover sales rose last year by a hundred million dollars.

I think this might be a picture of my psyche.

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