boolar

rhythm method.

rithem.

the rithem.

the rithem method.

the rithemethod

the rhimetod.

man.  i got knocked off mine (or fell off).

but it looks like I’m back on the track.

see y’all soon.

I have already sunk (and most likely lost for good) a few thousand dollars for which I actually worked.

I’ve already been told that unless I am wiling to pay double-digit interest rates and a trio of points on twelve-month loans, it can’t be done.

And never mind the money, I’ve lost so much ground in my on-going existential battle against this social cage I’ve been trapped in for almost twenty-nine years. If I get pushed back any further, I’ll be at risk of losing the sanity and happiness I’ve staked out for myself. That’s right, I feel myself slipping back into the old depression. What is the use of all this sobriety and sacrifice and goddamn crochet? I want drugs. I’m already using caffeine again, without medicinal wine I couldn’t have made it this far in the process, nicotine is rearing its ugly head and flashing its yellow teeth provocatively at me, and the only question on my mind is, why not indulge?

Forget this dream. That’s right, give up! You’ve been a stranger in a strange land these past months, and the locals haven’t made you feel very welcome. Go back to suckle at the bosom of the good old life, where the wine is strong and the music is better.

Not yet. I’m gonna give it one last push, even if this project turns out to be as dead set against me winning as Djamilah’s right arm was against mine last Sunday. I had her inches from the table, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not muster the strength to get it down. After five white-knuckled minutes, I finally let go, just as I’ll let this building go if I have to.

At worst, I’ll be a little sore for a few days, right?

“He has no ego any more–if ever he had one. He’s split it up into hobbies. He has at least three hobbies that I know of–and they all have to do with a big, ten-thousand-dollar workroom in his basement, full of power tools and vises and God knows what else. Nobody who’s really using his ego, his real ego, has any time for any goddam hobbies.” Zooey suddenly broke off. He was still lying with his eyes closed and his fingers laced, quite tightly, across his chest, his shirt-front. But he now ground his face into a deliberately pained expression–a form, apparently, of self-criticism. “Hobbies,” he said. “How did I get off onto hobbies?” He lay still for a moment.     J.D. Salinger, Franny & Zooey

Bradley has told me that I might have to give up crochet.  He might be right.

εἰσὶ γὰρ οὖν, ἔφη, οἳ ἐν ταῖς ψυχαῖς κυοῦσιν ἔτι μᾶλλον ἢ ἐν τοῖς σώμασιν, ἃ ψυχῇ προσήκει καὶ κυῆσαι καὶ τεκεῖν• τί οὖν προσήκει; φρόνησίν τε καὶ τὴν ἄλλην ἀρετήν• ὧν δή εἰσι καὶ οἱ ποιηταὶ πάντες γεννήτορες καὶ τῶν δημιουργῶν ὅσοι λέγονται εὑρετικοὶ εἶναι• πολὺ δὲ μεγίστη, ἔφη, καὶ καλλίστη τῆς φρονήσεως ἡ περὶ τὰ τῶν πόλεών τε καὶ οἰκήσεων διακόσμησις, ᾗ δὴ ὄνομά ἐστι σωφροσύνη τε καὶ δικαιοσύνη• τούτων δ᾽ αὖ ὅταν τις ἐκ νέου ἐγκύμων ᾖ τὴν ψυχήν θεῖος ὢν , καὶ ἡκούσης τῆς ἡλικίας, τίκτειν τε καὶ γεννᾶν ἤδη ἐπιθυμῇ, ζητεῖ δὴ οἶμαι καὶ οὗτος περιιὼν τὸ καλὸν ἐν ᾧ ἂν γεννήσειεν• ἐν τῷ γὰρ αἰσχρῷ οὐδέποτε γεννήσει. τά τε οὖν σώματα τὰ καλὰ μᾶλλον ἢ τὰ αἰσχρὰ ἀσπάζεται ἅτε κυῶν, καὶ ἂν ἐντύχῃ ψυχῇ καλῇ καὶ γενναίᾳ καὶ εὐφυεῖ, πάνυ δὴ ἀσπάζεται τὸ ξυναμφότερον, καὶ πρὸς τοῦτον τὸν ἄνθρωπον εὐθὺς εὐπορεῖ λόγων περὶ ἀρετῆς καὶ περὶ οἷον χρὴ εἶναι τὸν ἄνδρα τὸν ἀγαθὸν καὶ ἃ ἐπιτηδεύειν, καὶ ἐπιχειρεῖ παιδεύειν.

Souls which are pregnant–for there certainly are men who are more creative in their souls than in their bodies-conceive that which is proper for the soul to conceive or contain. And what are these conceptions? Wisdom and virtue in general. And such creators are poets and all artists who are deserving of the name inventor. But the greatest and fairest sort of wisdom by far is that which is concerned with the ordering of states and families, and which is called temperance and justice. And he who in youth has the seed of these implanted in him and is himself inspired, when he comes to maturity desires to beget and generate. He wanders about seeking beauty that he may beget offspring. –Plato (Πλάτων), Symposium (Συμπόσιον) 209 (ca. 385 BCE) (B. Jowett transl.)

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the girl with know eyes

I’m working on a cooking ‘zine, though, admittedly, “working” means “thinking about and doodling upon so often that I would have the whole thing done if I’d actually started the physical process of putting it all together.”

Kinda like the way the new Boolar album is happening. It is happening. It will materialize. But it will be on its own time because nobody is trying to force it.

Part of the problem I have with actually committing the ‘zine to paper is that it seems to be the kind of constantly-changing thing I could never bolt down, and would never want to. I am always learning about new ingredients and improvising new recipes, it seems an exercise in folly to put any of it in writing. ¹ I also worry that since I want my ‘zine to be focused on healthy approaches to cooking (starting with stocking a kitchen), I must be certain that I am giving good advice that people can trust. What if I am wrong and Raw Apple Cider Vinegar turns out to be carcinogenic. Unlikely, but what if?

I’ve decided not to worry about such possibilities, but just to do the best that I know how at this moment. I’ll finish the thing now and be happy in ten years when I look back and see how far I have come. And then I can put out a revised edition. Right?

I feel pregnant. Not physically, but like Plato’s pregnant men who give birth to beautiful ideas((I am really very happy that I can still navigate my way through that bit of Greek text above. I’ve been afraid to try at all these past few years because it would be so disheartening to find myself so bad at something at which I had once excelled. I wish that I had worked on my own translation to put here, but I’ll allow myself to take some baby steps.)). It’s a good feeling. I described it once in a lyric that went something like “so impressed/I must express/the shape and weight of time.” Feeling so pregantly full of love and gratitude for all of the beautiful, amazing things around you that you have to express this love by giving birth to another beautiful, amazing thing.

Life begets life and beauty begets beauty.

Or something like that.

1. This is also a problem we have with music. I call it perfection getting in the way of doing anything at all. [↩]