Friday, December 23, 2016

from 7H: sails in the sunset


Early, we are up and out on 7H porch early, and Friday appears a beautiful morning. Sky seems clear, black, crescent moon and two companions close by and barely out of reach, all of which confirming there’s no reality after all, only perception, perspective. Already I begin my Seventh Day, Crime and Punishment open on this laptop, Feodor, I'm only in Part I, Chapter 2 of Parts 12, and already recognize the Holy Fool, Sonia, by her drunkard father's description: Sonia with the yellow ticket. Already been set up for the crime, murder, of the victim, Alyona Ivanovna, cagy, severe and stingy mean from the very first cracking of her door. How can Feodor possibly get twelve parts with all the chapters when without ever having read it before I already see. Well, I’ll learn about Feodor, and maybe come to feel sympathy for the old doomed pawnstress. 

Elsewhere already, Ivan yet she called him Jean, but of course they spoke French, undeniably a revolution factor, and thus begins my Seventh Day.

I’m not very smart, we shall see how long I can take, stand it before reverting to car books. 2017 - 1968 = at Naval War College half a century ago we all took Evelyn Woods Speed Reading, but little used, the skill fades, 12 Parts challenges to brush up. How many pages and parts can one stretch out a simple murder, and how many characters will I meet.  

5:58 of a December 23, XmasEveEven, and still dark and late now we’re just past the “shortest day” of the year. Last evening a sailboat in the sunset, reminding me of a song my mother sang sweetly when I was a small boy

Red sails in the sunset way out on the sea
Oh carry my loved one home safely to me
He sailed at the dawning, all day I've been blue
Red sails in the sunset, I'm trusting in you

It was a long time ago, could have been Bing Crosby? IDK. Matter of fact, in actual, true fact,

IDK a damn thing.

Although I did once hear a retired USNavy vice admiral define Christianity as "love, and sacrifice." Where love is not a feeling. Or perhaps a feeling after all, viz Marmeladov's daughter.

Time to go walk.



DThos+

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