In Which Upfilling the Cage is Discussed And Milla Is Briefly Contemplated

02/24/2006 7:02 AM – 7:24 AM

There really is only one way to write a good sci-fi story, and that’s to write a good sci-fi story. When waking, small things linger from the dreamside and then fade away. What was that dream? I don’t remember, and now the emotion of it is gone. I asked myself, “where did we come from and where are we going?” I found that, today, I was content with not knowing.

How did that come about? I know that I can’t know, or, closer, I know that it’s possible for me to know but impossible for me to prove, even to myself. The sky went gray for a few minutes and snow fell sideway past the window. Now the gray-eyed morn’ smiles on the frowning night, checkering the eastern skys with streaks of light. I must upfill this osery cage of mine. That’s just how it goes. What do we fill it with, this basket? Can I choose? I had thought that that was part of zazen – focusing the mind on those things which good and pure and right. But zazen is just noticing what is. Somehow, we hope for more.

Where are we going? To work in a while. Earn money. With money, a man can live wherever he wants. Even in the woods. So. Earn money. How does one earn money? By working. But a man can work 60 hours a week and still only bring down little for moving to the woods. And I’d have to do that for, like, 10 years. Ten years, working sixty hours a week. That would suck. Unless it was writing or woodworking – something absorbing. Damn. I’m finding those catch-22’s again. I hate catch-22’s. I like bourbon. I like writing. I like reading. I like watching movies. I like Milla. Mmmm… Milla. It’s interesting when you find two aspects of your nature that are both very pleasant and in direct conflict. One second, I’m dreaming of my hermitage. The next, I’m dreaming of Milla. Being human is odd. So. What will I do, today? I’ll sit. I didn’t yesterday, there was a little fraying in the morning, but I was back to normal by late afternoon. Is this better mood strictly a result of better weather? The feeling of winter loosing its grip? Why would that matter? Ahh, this is it. This is how it goes. Hold on to working towards getting something better; enjoy this moment, wherever it is. And so it goes, and so it goes. The sky lightens, the clouds grow yellow and red and pink. So it goes.