What it comes down to, I suppose, is that most, if not all, of my behavior is neurotic. How could it be otherwise? I’m assaulted by the news of killings every day, of mass shootings and war; I’m exposed to incessant, unscrupulous advertising, noise, and to flashing, brightly lit screens; outdoors, I walk on concrete and asphalt, indoors on artificial flooring; I drive a car; I harvest most of my […]
Yes, I’m in pretty good shape for the shape I’m in, but I’m also banged up around the edges. For instance, no one would look at me and think I’m younger than my age. They’d likely think I’m older. Be that as it may, I’m often greeted as if it’s understood I have a sense of humor. And just the other day, the tow truck driver who came to rescue […]
It would be wrong to characterize my childhood as anything but enchanted. To do so may seem like a combination of denial and choice, but my memory of those days is clear enough that I still feel it’s true. And while I don’t remember what happened between each individual memory, I clearly recall the daily rhythm and atmosphere, my awareness of the passing seasons, flowers blooming around the house, the […]
Not many days ago, and an equally uncertain number of nights, I read backward and aloud the last page of Samuel Beckett’s The Unnamable. Standing before our big front window, paced by the commas, I read the words slowly and with feeling. When I reached the top of the page, I wondered if the author might not have done the same thing himself. It’s possible he could even have written […]
Light is relentless. Darkness is sin. But which is which, my friend? Where does one end and the other begin? Sorrow is beauty. Humor is sad. But in the beginning, that wasn’t my plan. And Job said, Begin again. [ 815 ]
William Michaelian 