2/8/89

False hope is the final boundary-
the endless, lonely shore of all relationships.
(There is a lovely sunset of such sad times)

[One dark night, Death itself
grimaces there, showing its teeth.
Fat and lazy, it settles on the old
ones, who finally, softly , fall into
its mouth. Never finally
contained- at times the Horrible Monster
eats Everyone- even children.]

In order to let us live, the
mind invents anaesthetics against the
reality of death. Gradually, these
anaesthetics have turned into an institutionalized
panacea.

If we have advanced into
stasis, we need to retreat.
For some time science has
provided such retreats. This
effect has worn away- religion,
introspection- all has fallen through
the Black Hole of endless science.



Cleanliness of mind is kindness
of mind.



Competition is like a battery as
compared to "alternating current."
A short term stimulant that corrodes
what it touches too long.

2/10/89

Richie [Piombino, my brother] is 35 years old today.

To assess accurately
entails being truthful- and stoical:
e.g. just so much and no more. Yet the rebel (the debel?)
finds the Golden Mean a bore.