|
|
|
unique works of humanity
Sunday, May 5 2002For May, perhaps, it was a cool day, but given the sunny skies and calm breezes, people were out in Prospect Park in force. Gretchen somehow managed to rip me away from writing my Iceland tales long enough to enjoy some time in the Park with Sally. We sat in the triangular field near the Vale of Cashmere equidistant between others doing likewise. Someone in the nearby woods was playing a flute, and after he'd warmed up the music was beautiful.
I was reading the New Yorker article about John Edwards when I wasn't talking to Gretchen about my inherently myopic view of my future. "I live as though I'm only going to be around for about two more weeks," I explained. Interestingly, she said she did the same. What is odd about this is how differently we act under our delusional sense of imminent mortality. Gretchen's two-week window on the future makes her want to travel and show her friends how much she loves them. But for me it makes me want to put my nose to the grindstone so I can finish my projects. For better or worse, I prioritize the needs of friends and the joys of travel so they conflict with my irrationally-accelerated sense of mortality. Besides, for me it's not important to have traveled the world and the seven seas before I die. All I really want is to have made some sort of contribution to the unique works of humanity.In the evening, Bill and Debra came over to watch Six Feet Under with us. Bill had quit smoking five days before and claimed that one of the effects of nicotine withdrawal was that he could hear wood hiss.
In tonight's episode of Six Feet Under, the web of dysfunction seemed to drag all the characters to existentially new lows. This feeling was heightened by the chanting of monks pervading the soundtrack in the final scenes
For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?020505 feedback
previous | next |
