Meaningless

what have the last 10 years here in PA been about?

Meaningless. Meamingless,

(i assume that my reader catches the Biblical allusion to Ecclesiates.)

i referred to Samual Johnson’s “Rasselas” in my college application personal essay about running away from home. Another traveler in search of meaning/happinesss.

my first try at the essay ended on a negative note, but my mother’s friend who was a political science professor took an interest in it and suggested some edits that made it a creditable work. I sent it with all my applications and got in almost everywhere.

its been a long time and my life has taken me far, far away from acadaemia; and i dont remenber very well: the excitement i had at picking up a book. The thrill at turning a bit of life into writing.

ive literally had what was left of that beaten out of me recently. In a way that strangely, paradoxivally, took out all the shit snd left what was good in there and in there and intact.

in college i just couldnt get away from myself to write. aningI would have given any thimg to remedy rhe problem. I went for counseling and it didnt help.all o

so, recently i havs been backpedalling, it seems, trying to do old work in tbs cottage-literally–ripping out the old carpeting and furniture and replacing it with beautiful new things.

Were just about done but weve been stalled out for months y brothers faking his suicide becauae my father doesnt want to hire anybody to do some electriical work rhats needed ro finish it up and im stalled out without a thing to do,

so.

Meaningless!! Meaningless!!

i am stuck here withoui a thing to do.

i know that Samual Johnson wrote “Rasselas” under stress when his mother was dying.to pay the costs of that and maybe thats fhe case with my current writing–the stress of not knowing whether my poor mother is living or dead.

It started with my brothers faking his suicide. Im almost sure that he did. That he thought it would help. I have no idea we to look it up.here he would be now.

i dong remember the ending of “Rasselas” right now which is pretty shoddy so I will have to come back when i get the

chance to look it up.

in Ecclesiastes — i cant remember the name of the traveler/writer–he ends with the finding that meaning is to be found in to eat, drink, and be merry after a hard day’s work and tbat shone a light for me on my illness– before all this about getting the mole taken off my face. I could eat but i literally couldnt drink and be merry. I cant take alcohol, even a tiny amount of wine, with my medication. And I finally realized what merriment is and that it involves sexuality as enhanced by the wine and neirher are possible for me due to a childhood sexual injudy which really sucks. But now that i have at least figured out the problsm I can be at peace and, at age 61 a can retroactively define my prognosis and proactively prolifsdacts some good “planks” into the future for however so long as i shall live.