The machines got smaller to go everywhere. Then they hooked up with the big machines.

We point the little boxes at what we want to see as we create reality for just ourselves.

And a world is lost, ’cause what we want to see, is us,

Today is All Saints Day, a Holy Day of Obligation. It is now 5:20 AM. Mass at St Benedict is at 8:45 AM. I need to stay awake for another three hours, then drive down to Church. There is some flexibility should I fall back asleep.

I had a dream last night where my late ex-wife was keeping the apartment neat and tidy while I worked. That actually happened when we cohabitated before we were married. Tomorrow will be the fourth anniversary of her passing. Years before she died, she expressed a desire never to see or speak to me again. It haunts me to this day.

I feel this sadness that never seems to end, when I think about it. I guess it always will. I changed when I got sober. I had major self-esteem issues that took years to work through. I’m still working on them. I feel generally worthless when I compare myself to her and her family.

Oh well.

Got my third T or T’er. Cute kid. 2 pieces chocolate candy went into his little plastic pumpkin.

I had my first 2 Trick or Treaters. I went to the door barefoot. They were surprised by that. They were two adorable little girls. I would have given them and their parents a trip to Disney World, had they asked.

I awoke around midnight and learned that the Nationals won the World Series. I had fallen asleep again to Kenneth Clark’s Civilisation. Francesco Bernadone (St Francis of Assisi) Giotto and Dante were among the people Ken discussed. Thus inspired, I ventured downstairs and picked up my copy of The Inferno, and resumed reading at Canto 21. I felt as if I had returned home (not to Hell), but to the world of serious reading and scholarship. What we modernista are doing, by neglecting these worka are starving our souls.

The coffee tastes good, every decaffeinated sip. The early morning hours, empty of the jackals’ howls, offer serenity.

I will go back upstairs shortly, perhaps sleep alone, perhaps climb back in the big bed with J.

When dawn comes, I hope to give some hours to throwing away and donating, resuming the tidying, begun in late Summer. The truth is that the clutter has me blocked emotionally. It is a metaphorical obesity, from which, for me, the other arises.

It takes work to create and carve our earthly homes. If we do not define our spaces, others will. It is as if my mother still dresses me, like I was an eternal toddler. I am no longer in love with old newspapers, and carpets filled with grit and crumbs.

I have enough. Throw it away. It won’t be missed. I will not give Amazon any more of my money to fill my emptiness.

Beauty beckons.

Take exhaustion,stress, anxiety, and a malevolent virus. And one gets sick. I went to bed early, before 10:00 P.M. I slept till about 1:30 AM, came downstairs to pack J’s lunch. I prepared some new chicken salad for her, sliced some strawberries and a banana for her fruit. It did not take long. Now as I sit, I fully get that I am sick, probably from the virus J had.

I am relieved it is just this virus. I know this suntan products collection and return has been a stressor. I feel like the whole damn house has been turned topsy turvy because it has. J put an enormous amount of energy, including cursing, muttering and epic struggling with packing tape. But it is done.

I have a cup of Celestial Seasonings Peppermint Tea waiting to be drunk. I am looking at the world through half-closed eyes. I accomplished something.

I’m watching a Donald Duck cartoon on YouTube. The animators frequently show Donald’s downy butt. And guess what? It appears old double D did not have an….asshole. There, the cat is out of the bag.

I’m having strange feelings, anxiety, tiredness, sadness. I dunno. I’m OK. I am not going to hurt myself. So if I’m tired, going to bed should help with that.

I will have The Talk with J about these feelings and the need for physical intimacy. I’m feeling less and less healthy. It’s a crappy feeling.

This morning, J had to be at work at 0430 AM. I got my kiss good-bye, or something like a kiss, as she departed. I, now awake, started my day. I lacked any enthusiasm,however, frittered away some time ordering my prostate supplement on Amazon.com.

I finally went back to bed, with Kenneth Clark’s Civilisation playing on the DVD machine. I awoke again as Dutch landscape painters and tulip speculators were the subject of Clark’s review.

Resolved to tidying up, I cleaned the upstairs bath, cleaned myself up, then washed and dried the towels, wash cloths and cleaning rags.

I read Shae’s blog post for today and another post from one of her followers on how women perceive their bodies around the whole weight/ sexual attraction cultural mind game thing.

I don’t really feel as if I had enough sleep, during my two sleep intervals, nothing new there. Now I have earned the chance to put my feet up, in my estimation, after my cleaning endeavours. I think another nap is in order. Maybe I will be clear headed enough to write something a bit more intelligent.