Pic of the day: Silence, by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
People with courage and character always seem sinister to the rest. It was a scandal that a breed of fearless and sinister people ran around freely, so they attached a nickname and a myth to these people to get even with them, to make up for the many times they had felt afraid.
Hermann Hesse, Demian
The clock says 3:00 am. Doesn’t feel like it. I’ve known 3:00 am before. 3:00 am is bone tired. 3:00am is hard work that no one else will do and that is always there no matter what. 3:00 am is fear masquerading as bravado, dancing in the pit of your stomach exclaiming “You can not sleep. Sleep is for the weak.”
The clock says 3:00 am. The lights are out. The only light coming from my monitor that burns too bright in the darkness, and the television which is currently tuned to a classical guitar channel. Light guitar music, nearly 500 years old, plays quietly, barely on the periphery of consciousness dances through the air.
The sound of an air cleaner running across the room and the monotonous staccato of fingers on keyboard damage the silence, but only slightly. This night feels like 10,000 others that I experienced a lifetime ago. I kinda like it. I should not be awake. My pillow is mere feet away, calling me, calling me to dreams. I do not listen. There are other dreams I chase this night. With joy in my heart do I work on my writing.
The book calls to me, tells me there is much work undone that cannot wait. I smile at this thought. In another window a program sits open words on the screen waiting for me to add words, concepts, paragraphs, story lines.
Things to do, I must away.
That’s it from here, America. G’night.