To my left , as I sit in my “comfy chair” is a box, filled with books that I ordered from Amazon and I’ve been intending to read, but have yet to read.

Well, doggone it. I am going to read them.

Expect book reports.

Having just completed Stay Alive, Ian Buruma’s history of Berlin during the war years, 1939-45, a memoir of a gay man hiding in Berlin An Underground Life. (Gad Beck) seems like a logical segue.

So here goes.

thiugh

I can’t find a better word for how I feel

One adjective says it all.

This is the toughest question I’ve ever asked myself. Does it mean giving your body to someone else,of putting up with their alcoholism or showing them the path to recovery? Does it mean losing the person, you thought you loved forever?

More will follow.

O

Paul Cooper is a podcaster who uses that term as the basic premise of his stories. He describes the fall of cultures throughout the world.

A lot of cultures accumulated very little garbage. They constantly found uses for things before those things became effluvia.

Today, we can watch freight trains hauling containers of trash to giant trash pits on their way to becoming giant trash mountains. We can decry this need to manage our waste, or we can see it as a giant jobs program for future archaeologists. ( The children of the rich who aren’t managing the inheritance will need something to do.)

I can see this phenomenon take place in my own personal living space (lebensraum). “What do I do with my trash?” has become an existential question. Not that Sartre or Camus fretted over their egg shells and old newspapers, but you get the idea.

Happy Canada Day to any Canadian readers I might have.

I‘m plowing through Antony Beevor‘s The Fall of Berlin 1945. Can one suffer from shell shock, simply by reading about The War (The Great Patriotic War) ?

Sleep? Maybe later.