Saturday, July 28, 2007

Jack McClellan

Swedish security measures in Iraq. In line with the Swedish traditions of criminal solutions.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Summertime Depression

Well, dear readers, I am depressed. It's summer and Lucia and Eldar are away and there's not enough money in the bank for us to take the Turkish holiday we planned when they get back and pay all the other usual bills. What's more, there's no telling where any more money is likely to come from. I paid my subcontractors twice more than I needed to for a recent project. Had I not, there'd be money enough. Then there's the USD 1000 I sent to a young woman in an unnamed country so she could join her mother and little brother in another unnamed country. It turns out she and another brother and her father were just able to get away to yet a third unnamed country. But things are at least better for them, thank goodness.

But as a result of my generosity, I'm in a pickle for summer vacation - something I so desire. And something Lucia and Eldar would sure love.

Guess I'll meditate for an hour. Then sort things out with this phone interview . . .

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Something tells me peanut butter and jam sandwiches for lunch two days in a row is not the best. So, with luck, I'll have a different lunch tomorrow.

Om Mané Padmé Om

The weather has changed.
Tickle your pickle.
Out of balance.
Counter valence
Monster talents
Hybrid whale ants

As many of you know, I was recently in New York. What a remarkable place. Just step outside and humble yourself. Millions of people with places to go and things to do all within walking distance. Your priorities are one in several million. It's refreshing to feel so unimportant. The skyscrapers in whose shadows you walk were most often there before you and will be there after you're gone. If you feel unimportant, then the pressure of life feels a bit lighter, at least to me.

All the activity, the vibration, the buzz of so many people so actively engaged, doing what they do in an earnest manner really picks things up. There's a sense that things make sense in New York, despite the vastness of it all.

I get the sense in Budapest that the experience of life here does not make sense for a great many people. The law of cause and effect is not enforced within the borders of Hungary. Here lurk insidious independent variables ready to snatch the voltage of one's actions, off to some other current of action. One is left alone and lost, wondering what happened.

It's time for something different . . . tidy up, wash dishes, etc.