Saturday, February 14, 2004

I'm slave to my electronic mail. I am whipped by my stanfordalumni.org enter password click inbox process that my fingers flutter out in my sleep. It's my connection to the outside world and when I plug in I look up to find an hour tesser into 5 minutes. My mother asks when I'm coming offline so she can make and receive phone calls. 5 minutes more I say. 5 minutes more I used to say when she came to wake me up in the morning. Sometimes still say. 5 minutes more, what will that do? More more more more.

We've been reading Aurobindo. Strange being he was. The first essay we read was a draught of the coolest sweetest spring water for my mind. The other essays we've read, sometimes rambly and poopy, but every one has been full of gems to make the mining worthwhile. They send bubbly rushes of revelation through my muddled mind. Enough of those and eventually a NMD or NMR or is non-NMD, that thing that Sopolsky talked about and apparently didn't happen often enough for the word to go aha in my little brain, anyway, yeah, that. That'll happen, and the intangible haze will be yet another single point of awareness that I'm collecting like holey stones from Pebble Beach.

Off to call Babaloush I go.

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