I made the coffee, heated the croissant, spread butter and guava jelly on the croissant. I ate the croissant, drank the coffee as I waited for Northbound #174 to stop in Ashland. It has just arrived, almost thirty minutes late.

I am feeling better, really.

I never thought leaving the United States to flee the Communists would ever be a possibility. And yet,,,.

“Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself in a dark wildetness, For I had wandered from the straight and true. – Dante´Alighieri, The Inferno* Translation Anthony Esolen Modern Library ©2005 Mass Market Edition

Am I caught up in pursuit of vain and futile diversions, under the pretence of searching for Truth? Have I only mastered the dubious craft of self-drception?

This Friday morning I know that the Silver Meteor is running five hours late. It is now 2:30 AM. I could go back to bed, Sleep seven hours, wake up, turn on YouTube to the Railfan channel and see it pass through Ashland, as if that were my only goal of the day.

The Germans have a word for what I feel, Weltschmerz, roughly the pain of the world. It comes with the knowledge that I can never completely mourn my losses. The triumphs can never, will never offset the deaths and divorces. Triumph and loss can never be measured in a balance.

The grieving never ends. I simply stop a while and cry a little less. Their is a mourning never measured by tears, but solely in the burden of the heart.

I want to see life, to hold a newborn in my arms and declare that we humans shall endure. I watch the women, wondering if one of them shares that dream of continuing on, in the nerves, cells, muscles, and blood of new creation, who will be one from us.

How did I get to be old and still be incomplete?

It is almost 6:30 AM. It is light outside. J phoned in sick. I may have slept four hours. The subtext of exhaustion that dogs my life persists. I will go back to sleep eventually

I am watching Episode 4 of Kenneth Clark’s Civilisation. He discusses the Renaissance in Florence, Urbino, Mantua. Figures like Alberti, Castiglione, the Dukes of Urbino figure in the story. This episode provides me an opportunity to “should” all over myself. That episode concluded, I am now contemplating the beauty and symmetry of the Brooklyn Bridge.

Allow me to talk about the Bridge as a reflection of the American character. The goal of the Bridge was to expedite movement between the cities of New York (Borough of Manhattan) and Brooklyn, for, at the time of construction, Brooklyn was a separate city. Great risk was involved in its construction. The laborers in the caissons used to construct the pilings in the East River, risked contracting the “Bends’ or Caisson Disease. It is the outcome of working in a pressurized environment and not allowing the nitrogen in the blood to slowly depressurize. It could affect anyone who worked in the caissons. Washington Roebling, the Bridge’s designer, contracted the bends. We learn in this country that great accomplishments often involve taking great risks in bringing them into reality.

With the Broklyn Bridge we see beauty wedded to functionaliy, a driving characteristic of modern life. The stone towers of the Bridge from which hang the steel cables supporting the road bed, are inspiring verticals, much like the spires of a great cathedral. But we are directed not to God but to the mundane tasks of getting to work and home again.

And so now, I need to sleep. desperately. When I awaken, I hope to read real books in real time, and get some housework done. And write something that will make a difference.
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I had a pretty good day. The housework gave me real feeling of accomplishment and pride.

Coming back from shopping ,J announced she was “frazzled”and had some nausea. She took a very small dose of promethazine which had her sleep seven hours. She woke up briefly, then went back to sleep.

I have had no one to really talk to for most of the day. This isolation under the guise of a marriage is frustrating. I’m just plain lonely.

Watching a documentary on the start of The Great War 1914-18 is not a healthy way to deal with these feelings. Let me find some cartoons quickly.

Yep. Chores is one of those words associated with working on the farm in Kansas, with Hunk, Zeke, Hickory, Uncle Henry, and Auntie Em.

This morning, after I awoke the second time, I decided today was the day I thoroughly cleaned the bathroom, not just the toilet, sink and tub. We have the clothes dryer in the bathroom. That means it is a wildlife sanctuary for dust bunnies. Plus there’s lint. So I get to work. Spent a couple of hours on everything and it’s all sparkly now.

I can and should do more. Keeping my focus on what I can do helps with the anger and frustration.

Now that the tub is sparkly, I think I will give J the bath bombs I bought here back around Easter. Hope she likes them.

The day my Social Security check lands in my checking account is always special. It is like Christmas morning, without the religious overtones. With my money, I ordered a pound of BOKAR Coffee from Verdugo Coffee Roasters. The product was one of the brands in the A&P line of coffees back in the day. When Compass Foods took ovet the line from A&P, they eventually discontinued BOKAR. Verdugo bought the rights to the name, the package design and the recipe and now sells it. Dad liked BOKAR, so I think of him when I drink it.

I was tired around 10:00 PM last night. So I went to bed without prepping J’s fruit or assembling the rest of her lunch/snack. I awoke around 2:00 AM, and have been awake ever since. I fixed her snack and just sat here. I read a book on Kindle© that contained basic grammatical errors, like the wrong pronoun used with a preposition. I’m either too tired to know what that’s called or I forgot. Chalk it up to being an Old White Man that I even care.

“Am I the only one who gives a shit about the rules around here!”- Walter Sobchak The Big Lebowski

Speaking of The Big Lebowski, I feel more like Walter than I do The Dude. The “eff-it”attitude of The Dude doesn’t register with me.

Right now, I’m waiting for a train to pass through Ashland #98,The Northbound Silver Meteor is running a little late. It should go through town at about the time I can stay awake no longer. The train just passed through. Things are getting blurred as I write. J is stirring upstairs. She has to be at the store at 6:00 AM. It’s 5:11 right now. Guess I will stay awake to see her off. Then back to bed.

I’m trying to keep my anger in check and mostly succeeding.

My life is a long process of letting go.

Energy is coming back.

J’s last day on her second job was today. Hopefully she will relax and rest more frequently.

Sex is still a dream.

It is 10:45 AM in St Petersburg, Russia. We are watching the Divine Liturgy from The Church of The Presentation Of The Lord. The Choir is there singing the responses to the chants of the priests and deacons.

The members of the congregation are wearing their masks and maintaining the requisite social distances. There is awe and reverence for the Divine Liturgy being said.

This is Russia 2020.