Pursuit of Modesty

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Just in time for holiday season.

Chastity, I'm so terribly sorry I've missed your Thanksgiving dinner. I have no excuse to offer but I hope you will accept my sincerest apologies.

Temperance, it was nice seeing you again. I had no idea you were back... obviously.

[Private]
Assaulting me in the middle of the day while I was crossing a busy street was completely uncalled-for! And it couldn't have been the ice queen; no, it just had to be the laughing maniac.

It's not funny. It's not funny at all.

A little over a month isn't... Last time, it lasted for almost a year. I don't know if this is enough.

There are random writings on my walls. In my handwriting, it seems. Somnambulism?

What is thing thing anyway? I didn't know I had one and it doesn't feel like it belongs to me.

I

[Written under the obituary notice of Mrs Rosenbaum]
Goodbye, Elsa Rosenbaum. May you finally find the peace you have been looking for all your life.

I will remember you when nobody else does anymore. Always.

You will be missed.

Left at the Virtues' homes/current residence while they are away.

Dumped carelessly in a trash can.

( [Random notes on torn out notepad pages hidden between the pages of a bible at St Patrick's Cathedral] )

[written across flight coupons; discarded afterwards]

Fall asleep; wake up in a different place. Chance meeting...

That man, he looked at peace.

Different room. Don't remember boarding a plane

When did I check in here? Meeting in two hours?

I look into the mirror and see nothing. Do you see me? Can anybody? Move.

You can't fall deeper than into His hands.

There is more to life than

...stopped thinking just feeling...

[jotted down on the margins of a newspaper]
iPods, iPhones, palm pilots, palm navigators, Blackberries, wireless access to everything
so well-connected, the world fits into our palms, instant access everywhere
isolated in small discrete bubbles of self-sufficiency and self-reliance and
untouchable L-O-N-E-L-I-N-E-S-S
twice removed from reality; chasing after symbols of symbols
when did it become so easy to be alone in a sea of people?
when did it become so difficult for them us to reach out and make contact?
chasing after what they we are told we ought to be, we lose sight of what matters of what we already are...

Just breathe for a while. Tell me something, anything that's on your mind. Something genuine, something that's you. Nobody seems to be willing to listen anymore.

I will. I am here. For you.

[scribbled on the back of his lunch receipt]

I hear the sound of funeral bells.

What, no formal invitations this time? No polite requests to see me? Was it my turn to issue those? Have I sent them out unknowingly?

Looks like it if my ears aren't deceiving me.

Dante, my friend, it's happening again. Have a good time.

( [Scribbled down on a notepad] )

Absolute perfection may be abject. But is it really so much more undesirable?

I waited patiently for the LORD; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry.
Declare his glory among the heathen, his wonders among all people.
Suffer me that I may speak; and after that I have spoken, mock on.

Perhaps it is time to move on.

[Private]
'Pray for me, Anton,' she says. 'Pray for my poor daughter's soul.'

I've prayed for her. For her daughter's soul, however, I found no words.

The future belongs to the children. Yet, something feels not right. I look around and see small bundles of wants and desires, see these traits being cultivated, encouraged, promoted even. Putting themselves on display, inviting the world to witness their...

There is no room in their small hearts for anything else.

Innocence? Where?

~ Everything is changeable, everything appears and disappears; there is no blissful peace until one passes beyond the agony of life and death. ~

Mrs Rosenbaum's daughter passed away two nights ago. They say it was a heart attack and that she didn't suffer. I'm not sure what it's going to do to the old lady, though Her condition has worsened during the past months; one moment she's crying for her child, the next she doesn't remember. I've been staying with her but I don't think it's doing her any good. So far it's only added to her confusion.

I remember meeting her daughter several years ago and it was not a pleasant experience. I remember thinking that the girl Mrs Rosenbaum constantly talked about must have vanished a long time ago. She did not like me - or anyone else except herself - very much. Not even her own mother. She hardly ever visited and when she did... I suppose it is true, that a mother's love is blind.

Perhaps the fires of hell will warm that stone heart of hers. Perhaps it is a blessing that Mrs Rosenbaum is losing her grasp on reality. Perhaps...

I thought I felt warm sunlight on my face but the day was wrapped in grey. Grace, is that you?

Dying dreams sometimes last longest in hearts they have broken; hate, after all, can be the strongest of memories.
[Murray Kempton]

I never left, never 'abandoned' you. I was always here and all you had to do was take the hand that was offered. I'm sorry that you couldn't reach out, not even in your final hour and that you left this world, believing you were doomed - and that you deserved to be doomed - for all eternity.

You were not beyond redemption. No man ever is.

( Phone conversation )


Mr Creo is not at home right now but we'll be more than happy to take a message~

Prodded by his conscience, he began to generalize. Men have always fought their misery with dreams. Although dreams were once powerful, they have been made puerile by the movies, radio and newspapers. Among many betrayals, this one is the worst.
[Nathanael West]

Having listened to three girls arguing why they deserve to play the angel for two hours, I feel sorely tempted to edit the role out of the play. 'An Angel Comes To Babylon' sans the angel? No? Didn't think so.

Unfortunately, the kids don't like 'The Liar' because they think it lacks depth which makes me wonder how much they know about depth when they believe daily soaps are a high form of art. On the other hand, Will Shakespeare's mindless entertainment is considered art too now, so maybe. No, I can't bring myself to even think it.

Ruth, may I borrow one of your stress balls or maybe even a foam club?

Yes, he thought: in those days, I used to talk to myself as if reciting poetry.
*
Durum semonilna, golden wheat wafting in Italian fields.
Can you imagine how astonished the Italians would be if they knew that what they were exporting in 1971 was really loneliness?
[Haruki Murakami]

Being loved by a queen will corrupt a man's soul - if he still has one, that is. Being loved by God will promote him to glory - if he remains unshattered through his ordeal.

A watched pot never boils - if you forget to turn on the stove.


Dinner at my place, Lady Virtues? I'm cooking spaghetti.

~ If you treat a person as he is, he will remain as he is. If you treat him for what he could be, he will become what he could be. ~

When David wished me a nice weekend today, I did a double-take and thought he was joking before I checked my calender and realised that it is, in fact, Friday. It is strange since I haven't been busier than usual.

The workload never changes, is always the same. Yet, this week seems to have gone by with an effortlessness and easiness that strikes me as slightly perturbing odd, considering....

Mrs Rosenbaum has organised a... I'm not sure what to call it but she and her friends are going to sell home-made cake, cookies and hand-made tea-cloth at the local kindergarten tomorrow which means I'll be spending the evening baking cake with old ladies.