2006-07-31

Rightly so

There is a goal, but no way; what we call a way is hesitation.

~ Franz Kafka

There is, probably, nothing so good as getting into a warm and clean bed (especially clean) when one is tired beyond sleep and suffers from some general bodily ache - an unwelcome accompaniment to an otherwise wholesome-sounding orchestra...or something. (Really, I'm writing only to despatch that round head from the front page, the current entry, or what-have-you. I was a fool, a deplorable fool, to have such an image mocking me every time I went to read the comments.)

It is true: I have nothing terribly important to write about and so it is unlikely anything of import will be found here. But I will give some sort of update - I can do that much.

Yesterday, I led a tour of 40 or so people to Whistler, an all-season resort just north of here. It was fine, I guess, except for having been there only once before, and never as a tour guide. There was much umm-ing and huh-ing as I led the few of them that still had any faith in me as their leader through the main village. Most had (rightly) dismissed my knowledge of the place when I managed to get us dropped off in front of the visitor centre and then led them off in some other direction while I made excuses for my disorientation. It was great. Amazingly, very few were upset, judging from their comments sheets, but then, who really wants to be led around on a tour when exploring and getting lost on your own is half the fun? I know I had a great time, anyway.

Investing: this is my new hobby. If anyone ever wants to chat about buying and selling equities, I'm your man. It's probably as much to do with the rush of plopping thousands of dollars into an uncertain proposition as much as anything else, but I tell you, this thing, this stock market, it is fun. Like Las Vegas, only without the steaks, women and alcohol, and...come to think of it, it's probably a very good thing I've never been there. But there's time yet.

And I did something I said I would never do, because I saw no use in it but for the emptying of time, and I have only so much of that; alas, take thyself to Library Thing, for in it lies countless hours of purposelessness (but then, I reasoned existentially, so has everything), and of course, I was able to divine my own reason, which is that I can keep track of books I have read that I do not own, because otherwise I have a tendency to forget about them completely; and I should like also to see if a map of my brain can be constructed using only the written works I have digested as clue - indeed, the author cloud already speaks volumes about how I must write (and it is true), and about what kind of outlook I must have on life.

Must: now there is a word you can sink your teeth into.

Peer into my soul and see yourself staring back.

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