I do tend to forget that someone may actually read what I say here. I often write as though this were some kind of personal journal. In fact I am somewhat careful of what I say even in my personal journal, knowing that someday I'll be dead and that my daughter may even read what I say (though I rather doubt she'll ever be that bored, assuming that the Oakland A's will still be in business).
I have my own rather stupid seven-year-old sense of humor that I always think is funny. Seven-year-olds love fart jokes and obvious plays on words, like "Good doctors have a lot of patience/patience." It may be that I maintain such a sense of humor because it simply irritates people. Some of my humor is actually so subtle that no one even gets it. Maybe I like that because it too irritates people. Talking is a very mixed bag. People misunderstand everything. Nothing is ever clear. Philip Glass wrote an "opera" consisting totally of singing the written instructions that came with a new refrigerator. Linda Ronstadt was one of the "performers"; she sang a certain "part" from the instructions. There were protangonists and antagonists, sweet parts and violent ones, and all refrigerator instructions. Humans interpret even very clear, very "scientific," "technical" texts. We give everything "meaning" and "nuance." Some of my simplest, silliest jokes actually offend people. Purposeful silliness, which can be parody, satire, and, of course, cynicism, may be experienced as ridicule, which it also can be. Perhaps there is really only "innocence" in "seven-year-old" humor, and not in seventy-year-old humor, which can get quite "stale." It may be quite true that I demonstated symptoms of autism as a young child and never really got over "living in my own 'other world.'" I do not say this to be funny in any way. My daughter has autism and I did have symptoms of such as a child. I don't rock any more, but I still have a bit of touch aversion, inability to speak socially and/or conventionally (going, rather, right for the philosophical, noumenal jugular, even with complete strangers). Having been born six weeks premature and spending the first two months of my life mostly untouched in an incubator, I'm pretty sure, had something to do with how I related with human beings, including why I always found them to be rather strange and robotic; as a child, I often referred to them as "flesh machines." Such things I should not admit, admittedly, since they could brand me as "a bit bizarre" or at least, strange. However, once I learned to speak, I could entertain, even perform for, others. Perhaps it was Venus-on-my-ascendant (Sagittarius). Yes, I was once a "professional astrologer" (even before I was a hippie). Aquarians tend towards magic and metaphysics as well as philosophy and the like. But, of course, I digress.
Life itself is a digression. Mostly it is wasted in distraction and other survival activities. I learned how to survive well and have tried to help others in their survival, quite literally as well as metaphorically. I do get "seriously philosophical" much of the time, which can be a euphemism for depression, but is a problematic activity of the soul, and, moreso, the mind trying to "understand it
all." The only certain way to understand it all is to not and accept that as Reality. Which is absolutely why I lean towards Zen and Daoism and appreciate the wind moving the trees very high up in the local redwood forest. Oh yes, the forest-silence as well. These are some of the facts of my existence, and perhaps why I believe I am ... sane, though others may not agree. It is important to be careful of what you say. It is best, in my estimation, to actually say nothing. Think everything but say nothing at all. But, since I have responsibilities other than myself, speaking is necessary. When I say "speaking," I mean saying that which must be said, which is not the same as buying donuts or making dinner; it is a much different, more essential, nourishment.
I have my own rather stupid seven-year-old sense of humor that I always think is funny. Seven-year-olds love fart jokes and obvious plays on words, like "Good doctors have a lot of patience/patience." It may be that I maintain such a sense of humor because it simply irritates people. Some of my humor is actually so subtle that no one even gets it. Maybe I like that because it too irritates people. Talking is a very mixed bag. People misunderstand everything. Nothing is ever clear. Philip Glass wrote an "opera" consisting totally of singing the written instructions that came with a new refrigerator. Linda Ronstadt was one of the "performers"; she sang a certain "part" from the instructions. There were protangonists and antagonists, sweet parts and violent ones, and all refrigerator instructions. Humans interpret even very clear, very "scientific," "technical" texts. We give everything "meaning" and "nuance." Some of my simplest, silliest jokes actually offend people. Purposeful silliness, which can be parody, satire, and, of course, cynicism, may be experienced as ridicule, which it also can be. Perhaps there is really only "innocence" in "seven-year-old" humor, and not in seventy-year-old humor, which can get quite "stale." It may be quite true that I demonstated symptoms of autism as a young child and never really got over "living in my own 'other world.'" I do not say this to be funny in any way. My daughter has autism and I did have symptoms of such as a child. I don't rock any more, but I still have a bit of touch aversion, inability to speak socially and/or conventionally (going, rather, right for the philosophical, noumenal jugular, even with complete strangers). Having been born six weeks premature and spending the first two months of my life mostly untouched in an incubator, I'm pretty sure, had something to do with how I related with human beings, including why I always found them to be rather strange and robotic; as a child, I often referred to them as "flesh machines." Such things I should not admit, admittedly, since they could brand me as "a bit bizarre" or at least, strange. However, once I learned to speak, I could entertain, even perform for, others. Perhaps it was Venus-on-my-ascendant (Sagittarius). Yes, I was once a "professional astrologer" (even before I was a hippie). Aquarians tend towards magic and metaphysics as well as philosophy and the like. But, of course, I digress.
Life itself is a digression. Mostly it is wasted in distraction and other survival activities. I learned how to survive well and have tried to help others in their survival, quite literally as well as metaphorically. I do get "seriously philosophical" much of the time, which can be a euphemism for depression, but is a problematic activity of the soul, and, moreso, the mind trying to "understand it
all." The only certain way to understand it all is to not and accept that as Reality. Which is absolutely why I lean towards Zen and Daoism and appreciate the wind moving the trees very high up in the local redwood forest. Oh yes, the forest-silence as well. These are some of the facts of my existence, and perhaps why I believe I am ... sane, though others may not agree. It is important to be careful of what you say. It is best, in my estimation, to actually say nothing. Think everything but say nothing at all. But, since I have responsibilities other than myself, speaking is necessary. When I say "speaking," I mean saying that which must be said, which is not the same as buying donuts or making dinner; it is a much different, more essential, nourishment.
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