Friday 2024-10-11

Prayers, etc.: * 04:30 – Prayer to St. Michael the Archangel * 06:40 – praying The Angelus * 07:00 – praying the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Holy Rosary, followed by the Memorare. * 12:00 – praying The Angelus * 14:00 – prayerfully reading The Athanasian Creed, followed by today's Daily Meditation found in Benedictus Magazine. * 18:00 – praying The Angelus * 18:50 – praying the hour of Compline for tonight according to the Traditional Pre-Vatican II Divine Office, followed by Fr. Chad Ripperger's Prayer of Command to protect my family, my sons, my daughter and her family, my granddaughters and their families, my great grandchildren, and everyone for whom I have responsibility from any demonic activity. – And that followed by the Friday Prayers of the Association of the Auxilium Christianorum.

Health Metrics: * bw= 217.60 lbs. * bp= 144/79 (65)

Diet: * 06:00 – ½ pb&j sandwich * 06:50 – cheese * 08:10 – applesauce * 11:30 – biscuit and jam, sausage, hash browns, pan cakes, little cookies * 15:30 – pizza

Chores, etc.: * 06:00 – bank accounts activity monitored * 11:30 – watch old game shows and eat lunch at home with Sylvia * 15:30 – begin following live broadcast from President Trump's Rally in CO on RAV * 16:30 – watch Bannon's War Room * 17:00 – local news and weather * 18:50 – have tuned into Northwestern Wildcats Radio Network ahead of their game vs the Maryland Terrapins, opening kickoff is just minutes away.

Chess: * 08:00 – moved in all pending CC games

posted Friday, 2024-10-11 ~20:00 #DLOCT2024

A good Friday, this: less stressful than many (most?) recent days. I'm in the process of realigning my blogging / social networking. This involves setting up a new blog, Roscoe's Thoughts, reducing my activity on another, and becoming more comfortable using my Substack.

posted Friday, Oct 11, 2024 at ~4:50 PM #QNOCT2024

One Day, I'll forget all of this. Everything forgotten I want to remember. To hold on to those moments in life filled with awe.

Letting go of the pain Is no loss. No one minds.

Tears and broken hearts Are more easily recalled Than our laughter.

Like stumps In a felled forrest That linger Long after the woodsman.

I just sit here, Write it all down, Smile for a while.

Long from now, This book can reopen traveled through time These golden moments.

Fear lingers shadowy But is dashed and cowed When the sunshine of love transcends time and space.

Welcoming comments and critique since 1984

#poetry #sxs #confession

• Why you're so tired — Johnny Harris

Finally, an explanation that makes sense.

More great videos from Johnny Harris:

• Why the US spend so much on its military

• The secret Trump investigation nobody is talking about

The latter one speaks of a potential contribution to Trump's 2016 election campaign from Egypt. Clearly shady practice, but it makes it sound like this sort of thing isn't common practice in America when we all know Israel has had its meddling hands all over many facets of American politics in more ways than one, not least of which is AIPAC contributions. What this says is that it is only okay for foreign countries to legally influence American politics if they up some kind of NGO or think-tank within the United States through which to funnel their bribes.

#radar

Lydia's Weekly Lifestyle blog is for today's African girl, so no subject is taboo. My purpose is to share things that may interest today's African girl.

This week's contributors: Lydia, Pépé Pépinière, this week's subjects: Alphabetical Print Fabrics: A Trendy Twist on Textiles, October Breast Month, A 280 GHC Chicken Egg, and What are Nanoparticles and Forever Chemicals

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Alphabetical Print Fabrics: A Trendy Twist on Textiles Fashion is ever-evolving, but every now and then, a trend emerges that combines whimsy with sophistication. One such trend that is making waves in the textile world is alphabetical print fabrics. These playful prints are not just for children’s clothing or novelty items; they’ve found a place in high fashion and everyday wear, adding a unique flair to wardrobes everywhere. Let's explore why alphabetical prints are becoming a staple and how to incorporate them into your style. The Allure of Alphabetical Prints. Alphabetical prints are refreshing and eye-catching. They can convey messages, evoke nostalgia, or simply add a fun element to an outfit. The charm lies in their versatility; whether it's a bold statement piece or subtle accents, alphabetical prints can fit various aesthetics. Playful Yet Elegant: The juxtaposition of letters on fabric can be both playful and sophisticated. Designers are now using these prints in chic blouses, tailored trousers, and elegant dresses, making them suitable for various occasions, from casual outings to formal events. Personalization: Alphabetical prints can be deeply personal. Wearing a piece that features your initials or a favorite quote can make an outfit feel uniquely yours. This trend invites wearers to express their individuality in a fun and stylish way. Through Fashion: Each letter can represent something personal, be it a loved one’s name, a cherished word, or even a hobby. This storytelling aspect makes alphabetical print fabrics not just clothes, but a form of wearable art. Check the next blog for styling tips. October Breast Month, but not too sure. It's a good thing that attention is drawn to breast cancer, statistically 1 in 12 will get it (and 1 in 120 men), so a bit of checking from time to time may be worth it. But stay cool. Many think at one time or another that they feel something and then they fear and panic and the stigma starts, often followed by a visit to a doctor, a bill of 300 GHC or more, an X-ray (about 120 GHC or more), and another visit to the doctor (300 again if you are unlucky), to be told there is nothing there but a stiff muscle. Breast cancer does not show from one day to another, neither do you die of it from one day to another. So if you feel something, see if you can get rid of it with some arm, neck and chest exercises, there are a lot of muscles in that area. Ok, the doctor says there is something there and suggests more tests. Do know that up to 10% of mammographies, (an X-ray examination of the breast), up to 15% of ultrasounds (high-frequency sound waves produce images of internal body structures), and up to 20 % of MRIs (Magnetic Resonance Imaging produces three-dimensional detailed anatomical images) give wrong positive results. (Unfortunately, the other way is true as well, up to 15% of mammo's may not show cancer, up to 10% of ultra's, and up to 10 % of MRIs). To be very sure, next is to do a biopsy, removing a small part of that hard ball and checking if it is cancer indeed. And if indeed it is cancer, some cancers are not very aggressive and can be treated reasonably easily, but then of course cancers which have had ample time to develop will be more dangerous. So don’t immediately start panicking from day 1, but indeed, regular checking is worth the while, you have about 15 times more chance to get breast cancer than to be involved in a car accident. And there is cervical cancer as well, about 1 per 20. Talk with your doctor and agree on a regular checking program. And

feel relaxed because you were just checked and told everything was fine, and you know that if anything at all you'll know it at an early stage. By the way, cancer needs sugar to grow, so the fewer Cokes, Fantas and Maltas the better.

A Boiled Chicken Egg at 280 GHC? Most of us will boil an egg until we’ve almost forgotten it and then take it out. But some have taken this a bit further. There is the “perfect boiled egg”, boiled at exactly 64 ° C for 45 minutes to 1 hour (depending on the weight of the egg). This way the egg white does not fully coagulate and turns a custard texture, the yolk is coagulated with a creamy butter texture. Difficult to do, and only found in top notch restaurants at a cost of about 11-16 $ a piece. Crazy? Is a 2000 GHC bottle of Champagne in a Ghanaian nightclub crazy? “You have the moral obligation to take money from fools before they spend it otherwise”.

What are Nanoparticles and Forever Chemicals And why do we talk about them? About 30 years ago nanoparticles came into vogue. A nanoparticle is a very small piece of something, about 1/1000th the size of a piece of dust you see flying in a sunbeam into a dark room. Once we were able to create nanoparticles the options were many, from medicines to computer chips, and many more, nanoparticles often behave differently from their bigger brothers and this has opened the way to new chemical reactions and molecules. But now we talk of nanoparticles as pieces of plastic that seem to be everywhere and that enter our bodies through food and drinks and inhaling air, and which are small enough to enter our bloodstream through our lungs and intestines. And from there they go everywhere, including your heart, kidney, liver, even your buddy's testicles, and also your clitoris. And then there are the forever chemicals, a large chemical family of over 10,000 highly persistent chemicals that don't occur in nature. Forever chemicals have been linked to multiple health problems, including compromised immune systems, liver damage, thyroid diseases, increased cholesterol levels, hypertension, development delays in infants, and increases in certain cancers such as kidney and testicular. I am scared.

Lydia...

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Make a morning wish

What do you want?

A very mundane question. Often marking the beginning of negotiations before an exchange of some kind.

What do you want?

Or maybe not. No exchange. Not always. In other times it is more of a billboard question looming over you. The question only a message, not expecting an answer.

What do you want?

I can want, I probably should want... something. There's always something to want, or is there not?

I recently discovered that my daily commute has a certain routine inside my own mind. For clarification: I commute alone (except for, you saw it coming, George of course) and over the years, we seemed to have developed a dance of thoughts. I wonder who you think is leading.

First beat (a slight step to the side): leaving the house. I get settled into the morning and subtly start checking myself: am I tired, energised, at ease? After all, we have to know what to work with. Any curve can harbour a surprise but one can only stand on solid feet or dodge with ready muscles.

Second beat (three strong steps forward): envisioning the day. Surprises or not, there is a list of tasks in my mind. A meeting here, a mail there, tasks to do. Or more precisely: to get done. Are you looking forward to actually do them or are you looking forward to have them done? After all, that's not the same, is it? Enjoying the actual action or the end of it. Is the journey truly the destination all along or only the means to its end?

Third beat (a sudden pause): while weighing the personal significance of a – maybe – mundane task list before coffee #1 (!):

What do you want?

Not every day but any day. Not big, complicated, long words but four syllables. Not threatening but waiting.

What do you want?

And what do you want? Your answers were inconsistent at best. And rather humble, I admit Before coffee #1, I ask for peace. I hope to get to my list of tasks without interruptions or dramatic (!) surprising disruptions. Meetings and messages which are more gardening than firefighting, if you get what I mean!

And so I go. The statements above sound like Tuesday to Thursday and not like Monday or Friday. And why?

Since What do you want? is – in this dance – more reply than question, really.

• Checking myself
• Considering what lies ahead
• What do you want?
• What do you want?
• What do you want?
• What do you want?
• What do you want?

As open a question as open can go, but based on what state I am in: On Mondays, coming from a weekend going towards a week of work; On Fridays, coming from a week of work going towards a weekend; then the questions sound bigger. And still you try to dodge them. I find this moment when we are alone, when we haven't had a coffee and the chance to erect our walls and deflections. Now this is the moment. And you dodge it. Again and again.

And here we see the ambush. What do you have me do? I am commuting, I just entered the treadmill. That's hardly the moment to stop and turn around, is it? Hardly the moment to plan? I give you a chance again and again.

And by doing so, your chance becomes part of the treadmill. Woven into the mundane as part of the dance. And we dance until the music stops. It was maybe Orwell's cruellest idea for the system to write the book of resistance. Any action is merely a stream ignoring pebbles.

But just because the question is wired into the system doesn't spoil its validity. It simply needs a better time on fertile soil. Not a worn-out commute in the evening, not a busy Saturday evening.

George, would you take a walk with me? What do you want?

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Last post: “Impatient Padawan”

It is the proximity of death and failure That gives life its precious glow. The fears persist. But so do I.

There always exists a chance for happiness If the heart continues to cherish hope above all.

The Shadows persist. But so do I.

Others will see the gifts and desire those, Wondering in their want if they too could have the wealth.

The Torments persist. But so do I.

But they do not want to hear about the conflagration Or the sacrifice it took to acquire such riches.

The dread persist. But so do I.

They desire the view, and The breathtaking description.

The longing persist. But so do I

But happily pass when offered The opportunity to make the climb.

The Terrors persist. But so do I

This life must be born as it is celebrated. May the bridges I burn light the way.

The horrors persist. But so do I.

If you persist, So. Shall. I.

The dude abides, feel free to share your thoughts

#poetry #sxsw #confession

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i love you

Translated from the original article published in French by The Conversation

Agriculture has a heavy responsibility to feed billions of people under difficult conditions: the demography is growing, the climate is becoming less and less favourable, water resources are drying up, and soils are deteriorating. Despite immense progress, it leaves too many empty bellies while overpressuring nature.

To reform this untenable situation, many are encouraging a shift towards local, organic and peasant agriculture. Similarly, since the beginning of the pandemic, policies have been deployed everywhere to increase food self-sufficiency.

These perspectives miss the point.

Let's stand it out. I am not shy away from a casseau of organic strawberries bought in a nice local market. I am amazed by the ingenuity of farmers around the world to improve their ecological impacts, both in conventional and organic farming. However, by insisting on the aesthetic aspects of agri-food (greenwashing, peasant romance and gastronomic chauvinism) and the underlying political gambits, we come to defend misguided policies, which are not based on scientific data.

I'm an ecologist and an expert in agro-environment. My research concerns agro-environmental data science and the construction of ecological habitats in rural areas.

Worse for nature

As several others have done before, researchers at the University of Minnesota have published a meta-analysis comparing the ecological impacts of organically and conventional crops.

Their conclusions are consistent with what we have known for more than a decade: in general (therefore without considering individual cases), organic farming is worse for nature than conventional agriculture.

Why? Lower organic yields place the ecological burden of a farm on a smaller amount of food. Each certified organic food unit will require more territory, contribute more to water pollution and produce a little more greenhouse gases.

Producing more per hectare gives the advantage to conventional agriculture. However, this intensification of food production is insufficient without an ecological purpose. With this in mind, the ecological intensification of agriculture aims not only to minimize inputs (energy, soiling, fertilizers and pesticides), but also to concentrate food production on the smallest possible territory in order to free up surfaces for the conservation and regeneration of ecological areas and corridors.

Focusing on yield

Saving the territory from agricultural occupation has a much higher biodiversity potential than living with nature, whether through organic farming or permaculture. As long as it allocates agricultural land that necessarily disrupts their environment, it is better to concentrate food production.

Moreover, organic governance requires a great deal of resources for the production of fertilizers, which relies not only on large areas dedicated to producing plant fertilizers, but also on animal excreta, as well as residues from slaughterhouses and (over)fishing. Nutrient cycle analyses shows that organic crops are largely dependent on synthetic fertilizers that have previously been absorbed by plants and then passed through animal digestive systems. Organic farming is clearly a false trail.

The local is not a panacea

A Swedish study on greenhouse gases emitted for the production and transport of tomatoes and carrots has shown that it is better for Sweden to import tomatoes from Spain than to produce them in Sweden. But for carrots, it was better to produce them locally.

Local farming is not an ecological panacea: it is also a constraint to produce food under ecological conditions that are not necessarily favourable, sometimes within fragile ecosystems. If food transport were a major source of greenhouse gas emissions, consuming locally could, of course, be worth it.

But the transport of food from their place of production to the grocery store is only 6% of agri-food emissions. The greenhouse gas emissions sources of the agri-food industry are rather dominated by ruminants, manure, fertilizers and deforestation.

Local agriculture could even slow down the reallocation of crops to land where they abound while sparing sensitive biodiversity areas, a strategy that could feed humans while restoring to nature almost half of the land currently in cultivation (excluding pastureland).

However, a global approach is also justified from the point of view of international solidarity. With the COVID pandemic, the number of hungry people in the world is likely to double. At the moment, many regions are not able to meet their food needs with local agriculture, as others depend on their agricultural exports. It would be better to make the interdependencies between countries more united than cut them out for food autonomy, lest the other cut them off first.

Since an affluent population has more means to improve their agricultural practices and diversify their supplies, the improvement in economic conditions is by far what promotes the sustainability of agriculture the most. And it remains intimately linked to its industrialization. A return to the peasantry would be deleterious for the environmental, social and economic sustainability of agriculture.

A green diet

Even if every effort to improve agricultural practices will be able to address only a small proportion of its impacts: the most important levers are much more in the hands of consumers. Indeed, the efficiency gains of agriculture have made it possible to achieve an excessive appetite for meat and dairy products, with serious consequences for the environment and food safety.

A civilization that favors essentially plant diets would be able to return to nature an area of 3.1 billion hectares (equivalent to that of Africa), while halving the greenhouse gas emissions of the agri-food sector. Even if livestock (especially beef) were halved, we will greatly improve all our indicators. A meat diet based on best ecological practices will pollute much more than a vegetable diet, making ecological livestock the clean coal of agri-food.

But isn’t meat a necessity for food security? A scenario where agriculture was intensified on half of the world’s low-yielding land would, without a change of diet, just eliminate the hunger of the 820 million humans that are not now able to meet their food needs. The serious problem of food waste and loss, which was properly managed, would provide meals for 400 million people.

As for livestock, they globally subtract from the agri-food system the meals for 4,000 million people. Of course, even if multilateral agreements favoured better food-sharing, rapid migration to plant diets would be difficult in some situations, particularly in countries that are already suffering from hunger and malnutrition. In any case, special cases should not be used as pretexts to avoid changing an unsustainable global trend.

A big turn is needed

Thanks to the green revolution and the progress that has been made since then, we now have everything necessary to feed a little more than 12 billion people while significantly reducing our environmental impacts. A second revolution will have to draw on the first, by its successes and mistakes, to free the world from famine and malnutrition while ensuring the protection and expansion of the natural habitats necessary for the return of wildlife.

The democratization of precision agriculture and genetic engineering technologies, however beneficial they may be, will be in vain without the changes in food habits necessary to free up large territories from pastoral occupation and without major changes in the territory’s management and allocation policies.

Globalized, industrialized, intensive agriculture and providing modern plant-based diets: this is astonished with the prevailing discourse, which wrongly defends organic, local and peasant agriculture. On the contrary, it will be a progressive perspective, ecological awareness supported by science and global solidarity.

#en #agriculture

they persist

I have to admit some hard things about you. Matters that I do not wish to acknowledge because those same qualities that make you someone I should never see again, also happen to energize me.

Talk about a bifurcated soul.

But in any case, even as I open my soul for the required ritual blood-letting, your secrets die with me.

Well, most of them. Especially the stuff at the end. November 1st... well, that one was kind of the problem, wasn't it?

Love always,

Charlie

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There's really nothing to say. Love isn't really about words, is it? #poetry #sxsw

Carta llegada a nuestras oficinas secretas, de la mano de un espontáneo admirador de nuestro trabajo, que incomprensiblemente, encontró la dirección de nuestras dependencias, a pesar de no existir ni estar en lugar alguno.

Estimada Dolores.

Me costó mucho encontrar un espacio y un lugar sobre el que detenerme a escribir esta carta. Ya nadie escribe cartas a mano, vivimos en el imperio de los correos electrónicos, o eso creía yo, hasta que descubrí que tampoco nadie escribe ya correos electrónicos. En cualquier caso, he conseguido reunir el valor suficiente y lanzarme a garabatear con un viejo boli BIC, de los naranjas, de los que escriben bien fino, estas palabras, que espero algún día lleguen a ti de una u otra forma.

Me dejaste solo frente a mí mismo, y eso, nunca lo olvidaré y nunca te perdonaré por ello. Recuerdo muy bien aquellas tardes, mientras nos divertíamos observando la belleza de la jauría furiosa de seres, de apariencia humana, pero deseosos de los restos y los desperdicios. Los vimos hurgando durante horas entre las miserias de sus congéneres, husmeando primero, para pasar a cercenar con esmero y dedicación todo lo que acababa sobre sus hocicos de omnívoros de la especie sapiens sapiens.

Estando contigo, teniéndote junto a mí, aquello resultaba divertido, no tenía nada que temer si sentía que estabas a mi lado. Nos autopercibíamos como superiores a aquella chusma de manglares bípedos que esperan con empeño su oportunidad para medrar en la vida a costa de las entrañas de los perdedores. Nosotros, simplemente aplicábamos la paciencia, a veces mucha paciencia, y nos limitábamos a observar y esperar a que las alimañas acabaran convertidas en su propia carroña. Sabíamos que era cuestión de tiempo, que nadie se libraba. Nos deleitábamos con la incisiva y lejana observación del mal ajeno, y las tardes se erguían ante nosotros como una incesante e intrépida aventura que nos permitía estar siempre al borde de una excitación límite. Éramos dioses, mirando sobre el mundo desde nuestra particular cúpula de marfil e incrustaciones doradas.

Durante meses, nuestro concienzudo cometido, nos ofreció escenas de una delectación maravillosa y profundamente miserable. Recuerdo incluso que bromeamos con construir un catálogo conciso y pulcro de las formas humanas de ser basura. En esto hay que dejar clara una diferencia fundamental entre ser basura y escarbar en la basura, actividad esta última, de un elevado rango ético y de carácter profundamente respetable. En nuestra científica observación, éramos conocedores de todas y cada una de las formas de putrefacción del alma humana, y eso nos provocaba una excitación que nos elevaba hasta la más luminosa y profunda oscuridad, aunque esas tinieblas eran pura luz para nuestros corazones henchidos de divinidad.

Nada escapaba a nuestra mirada, empezando por amigos traicionados, o amigos que se sentían traicionados porque su ego miserable no les permitía entender que el mundo no giraba sobre sus insignificantes cabezas. Trabajadores que esperaban con inusitada paciencia, la caída de sus antecesores, confabulando para acelerarla y ocupar ese lugar de privilegio en la que el resto ocupa tu lugar de acechador hasta que llegue tu hora; maridos henchidos de autoodio que proyectan su violencia, verbal, física, sexual… contra mujeres, las próximas y si se tercia, las desconocidas; millonarios deseosos de conquistar nuevos mundos, porque creen que todos los viejos ya les pertenecen; políticos de condición diversa que se camuflan a la perfección entre alcaldes de pueblo de buena voluntad a los que la política les cuesta dinero, y alcaldes de pueblo que aspiran a un reconocimiento social entre sus vecinos. La lista era interminable, pero eran casos muy bien conocidos por nosotros.

El mundo nos pertenecía y todo era dicha y regocijo para ambos, dioses entre los desechos humanos, henchidos de gloria eterna y… enfermos hasta la putrefacción, incapaces de detectar que nuestra degradación había alcanzado cotas de divinidad, que efectivamente, superaban con creces a la de aquellos a los que mirábamos desde nuestra atalaya de orgullo y estupidez. Si el mundo estaba putrefacto, nosotros, mi querida Dolores, habíamos sintetizado en un pequeño frasco, en lo más profundo de nuestras oscuras almas, el perfume más hediondo jamás concebido.

Tardamos en darnos cuenta, pero aquel día en que nos miramos y vimos nuestra profunda repugnancia mutua, todo cambió. Tú te marchaste, y yo abandoné aquella posición sobre la que nos erguíamos cada tarde, para no volver jamás. Ahora creo que podríamos haber hecho las cosas de modo diferente. Que huir, no nos aleja de nuestra miseria, que el reconocimiento solo es una primera parte, y que procede empezar a perdonarnos. Que es un proceso que debimos iniciar juntos, pero decidimos huir, alejarnos del otro, porque nos proyectaba nuestro propio espejo, y eso nos resultaba insoportable, dado que no estábamos dispuestos a ver la mugre de cada uno de nosotros en el otro.

Aquel tiempo ya pasó, pero nada ha cambiado, ya no somos jóvenes repletos de ansias de luz cegadora y superioridad moral, ya tan solo somos un despojo de lo que fuimos, y todavía no hemos conseguido liberarnos. Espero que algún día, antes de la que muerte nos alcance con justicia y paguemos por nuestros pecados divinos, podamos encontrar el perdón mutuo y la redención, pero para ellos debemos poder mirarnos de nuevo cara a cara. Yo no renuncio a encontrarte, y por eso te remito esta carta, como la última esperanza de que el destino te la haga llegar, y tengamos por fin que enfrentarnos a nosotros mismos y poder diluir el mal que nos ancla al maldito estercolero que nos vio nacer.

Siempre tu espejo, a pesar de la distancia, me despido de ti hasta el Día de la Liberación o de la muerte.

Anselmo Angustias, aquel que sigue reinando sobre las laderas del muladar, hasta encontrarte…, encontrarme.

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Foto Flickr Commons: Dumping Garbage in Landfill Operation on Jamaica Bay Increased Water Pollution as Well as Serious Ecological Damage Is Feared 05/1973, Tress, Arthur, 1940. https://flic.kr/p/6WYU3U

Are.na is very nice, but not quite what I need from a scrapbook of the web.

So I’ve soft rebooted on Tumblr with a tumblelog now titled mclhuanism, described, tongue only half in cheek, as being about progressive and post-neoliberal art, media, design, communications and culture.

#notes #blogging

On day 9, I was in bed by 10 to wake up at 5 easily.

On day 10 I woke, did my brief meditation and Chatterjee journal, then went for a run (yes, a run!) outside. I came back in, woke up my kids, and then something cool happened. I usually get irritated with my kids when I see them watching TV in the morning, at least when their chores aren’t done / they’re not completely ready for school. Today, instead of getting ticked, I sat down next to Emet, and talked to him about the show and watched it for 15 minutes with him, snuggling a bit. It felt really good to be something other than mean, nagging Mama for once.

Then I wrote two blog posts here including this, which took me until about 11 am, pausing for a couple of law-practic calls. Less than 24 hours later my self indulgence here strikes me as wildly overdramatic to the point of silliness. To be sure, when I’m not feeling the nonsensical emotional agony (the “alarm”) the concept that I am or was ever in that much pain does feel silly. I can almost always channel the energy to write something deep, but reading it is cringe; it doesn’t seem like me.

This has been my struggle in therapy over the years—I’m either quasi-suicidal and seemingly beyond any help that psychotherapy can provide, or I’m fine and therapy is me engaging in a fulfilling but academic conversation with my therapist. I can see this issue in my child too, now that we’ve put him in a therapy / coaching program… he’s always feeling good at the time of the appointment, so in observing him interacting with the coach / therapist my inner monologue is a bit like, hmm, are we overreacting? He seems like a very normal and well adjusted child.

Anyhow, the rest of day 10 felt good. But it occurs to me now, 5:30 AM on day 11, that if I spend an hour a day blogging, I’m sort of negating the “extra time” that the 5AM club touts as the secret to everything.

So today I’m going to make this brief, and maybe I’ll try to decrease frequency so I can better play observer, though I do note that part of the concept does involve taking exstra time for self-reflection so maybe it’s not so bad.

Last night I did not get home from synagogue until about 12:40, was in bed around 1, and maybe asleep by 1:20 or 1:30 … understandably, this morning it was painful to get up but not hard; I did it without much effort but now I am struggling at my computer and may even go back to bed. Next week I will be on California time for a couple days… which threatens to “reboot” my 5 am natural wakeup that I’ve only just established.

And the book itself… I still haven’t gotten past chapter 4, which inspired me to so painstakingly dissect a conversation from 1995. I full on hate the book now. I’ll be interested to see if it ever becomes practical. At present, it shows no signs of doing so.