Rage—rage for no reason but for there is nothing else to do. Nurtured by my interest in the classics lately—I've read Cicero, Thomas More's Utopia and Swift's Gulliver's Travels (for the third and final time in my lifetime)—I've been completely raging toward insanity. I had meant to pick up something lighter, something which reads easy and calm; but mostly I think I read simply to show-off, so I dove into The Iliad today. Homer's epic seems about right for my mood lately: anger and frustration and cursing the Gods, all feelings and actions I've been reveling in.
Reason? There is no reason, really. The great thing about anger is we don't need a reason to feel it. That's how anger is distinctly different from happiness, I think.
At any rate, my pursuit of taking a giant shit in the pasture of literature continues. I am about 2,000 quality words away from finishing a (not so) short story about a time-traveling altruist. In his first trip back in time he meets Bertrand Russell. I needed an anti-war sort to support my theme. If this post seems skittish, you'd be right. But I've promised myself there would be posts on this blog once a week for the entire year of 2012. January got past me.
Anyway, here's a great quote from Bertrand Russell, whose book, The Problems with Philosophy, I picked up and re-read highlighted passages from in order to get a better feel for a bit character in a ridiculous short story I'm penning. That sentence felt really long and there's probably grammar errors (I should probably keep tracking the "Stop...Grammar Time" feature over at The Reading Ape to avoid these sorts of errors). Also, some Bon Iver.
Do they make medication to aid linear thought? Pass the Adderall.
"The man who has fed the chicken every day throughout its life at last wrings its neck instead, showing that more refined views as to the uniformity of nature would have been useful to the chicken."