Saturday, May 14, 2022
earlier spring 2022
Friday was a happy day throughout the realm: Finals are over for Cal students, and it’s time to party.
In my own sense, this is a time for celebration. I’ve had a number of good events and things come into my life (which I may discuss some other time). My writing projects offline are growing well (new long postings coming soon); and long discussions via email with academic contacts will be melded into my Work.
Besides, we all need to enjoy the occasional occurrence of the 13th day of the month happening on a Friday. (Some tall buildings lack a 13th floor because many people lack a sufficient sense of humor.)
Also, I’m jubilant that the chronic nuisance of neighborhood partying will soon wane for a couple of months. I’m enjoying my own kind of solidarity with the “children” (who would cringe to be so regarded).
Here’s something (link upcoming): I had fun with the announcement
about that fuzzy image of the Black Hole at the center of “Our” galaxy, whose gravity makes the Milky Way spin with arms of billions of stars.
I commented at the NY Times, but would revise one phrase, deleting its “…Our evolving intelligence” and instead write: “…intelligence Out There eons beyond us….”
Humanity is the ethical generality that we are or can be—yet, talented persons prefer going their own way—with creative exuberance, at best; and authenticity—true fun of being well lastingly—without pretense about being virtuous.
My path to regular and importantly novel (I hope, i.e., truly “creative”) and accessible presentation (worth your time!) led me into forests
of topics and intricate thematic mapping.
I emerged. I gained closure. I know where I’m going—though I don’t know what I’ll discover—or create, which makes the openly appellant horizon thrilling.
Though I’ve reached my anticipated milestone, I’m not ready to write of my bricolagic vista relative to any of the appealing texts of others
I expect will enrich horizons more than I’ve so far conceived—which should be very likely, since I’m no genius—just highly drawn into the appeal of possibly original conceiving which is useful.
So, yea, creative exuberance—and divining better intelligibility.
A flourishing life at best merely tropes flourishing humanity; and likely makes little time for remembrance. So, maybe, recalling disappointed college love avows that eras may generate auras the era could never find, which was itself about moving on.
Or maybe not: not avows, not moving on—as if remembrance betrays
the claim of having really moved on.
But I truly did, now so many decades ago.
My playing around intimates desire to theorize narrative, which people do, you know. I have autobiographical pieces scattered all around the thousands of pages I have online. And that’s barely a beginning, since I’ve kept journals since high school…. As I’ve said more than once: Everybody’s got a story. But whose is worth others’ reading?
-- gary e. davis --- 12:01 AM