A View From The Attic

We build our nest on the tree called "future," eagles will bring meals in their beaks to us solitary ones.

Friedrich Nietzsche
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What is it to be a solitary one? On the simplest terms it means to travel alone on the road, to embark by oneself into the experiences of life, to be an ambassador-at-large in strange and foreign lands.

I have no comfortable chair in my apartment. I used to have one. But when I was moving from the second floor to the third floor years ago, someone stole it. So without it I don't sit back, relax and dwell in my memories. I have very little time for that. Most of them aren't so good anyway and I choose not to think about them. I have no children around me to take care of my old age. I have no grandchildren on my lap. I have no dog giving me unconditional love. I have no cat to observe my foolish human ways. No one is here demanding food and love, in that order.

But there is a broader, better aspect to the solitary life. And that is about the future. The future is what I choose to think about. Solitary senior citizenship doesn't depress me. I look forward every day to the arrival of the eagles. I can see how much the future affects the past.

I don't like wearing clothes. I feel slightly claustrophobic when I'm dressed. That I don't have to be dressed is another benefit of the solitary life. Pure ideas in their natural state are in the beaks of the eagles. Opinions are ideas dressed up in some fancy, fashionable outfits. The eagles, past and present, strip away the opinions and give me the bare ideas.

My grandmother, when in her 80's, would habitually watch the TV news everyday. She wanted to know what was going on in the world she could no longer participate in or hove any influence over. I understand her. When you have lived many decades you have a greater perspective about things. That perspective gives you the ability to better predict what is going to happen and to understand what is happening as you watch it unfold. In some ways it is a reaffirmation of your own wisdom. I think my grandmother was content watching history being made and I respect her for that.

But that doesn't content me. Somewhere along the journey, when I first started contemplating building my mental nest, I knew that although I was interested in the what of things, I was more interested in knowing the why. To my friends I appeared, and still do, I guess, obsessive, idiosyncratic and paradoxical.

It all began with art, specifically music. How could those sounds create such feelings and impressions in me? What was in the harmony, counterpoint and rhythm, the melodies and tonal structures that produced such results? So I started on a life long study of music. That was followed by theatre and a life as an actor, then relooking at the great paintings of the world. Not as a casual or obligatory observer, but from my aery nest in the tree top.

When my first marriage crumbled I lived alone and slept in the basement of my house until I could figure things out. Now I live alone in the attic. I'm still figuring, but the view is nicer.

DB - The Vagabond
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I'm getting a lot of interesting mangled cliches so I'm leaving the quiz up for another day.

"A stitch in time is worth two in the bush."

Your assignment is to take two or more grand old sayings, cliches, sage saws or famous quotes and cobble (clobber) them together to make a new and wiser adage or utter nonsense, as in the above.

Enter as often as you wish. The decision of the ornery, biased judge is final. Actually if this keeps up I may need some help judging. Any volunteers?

Good luck.
DB
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Afternoon Adventure 11/14/08

You will become as small as your controlling desire,
or as great as your dominant aspiration.

James Allen
............

Somber sky, the patter of rain on the window off and on all day, miraculous imaginings, quiet longings, solitude.

I should have brushed the leaves from the front steps yesterday as I thought to do, but I was tired from the days walk. Maybe one of my housemates will do it on the next clear day. Not likely. One good thing about the rain is that the leaf blowers aren't out filling the neighborhood with their ugly noise.

I have no exoteric duties today. The apartment is cold, not enough heat comes up. I have to call the landlord. It can wait.

It's good to be in. I have books to read and music to hear. Right now it's a Mahler symphony. (Who's he?) I have enough food, plenty of coffee and cigarettes and the young woman in the computer who tells me when I have email, who always surprises me because I rarely get any. The phone is turned off because the only calls I get are from the credit card companies wanting their money, which they will all get eventually.

I do have duties. I have to work on my Brian story. I like to stay ahead. I think some of the readers have gotten bored with it lately. I don't get anywhere near the comments I used to get. Maybe they gave up and stopped reading it, which is too bad because it is about to get very frightening and they won't know why.

And I also have my thoughts. I learned how to deal with regrets. I just don't think about them. I think ahead. I think about my writing and my painting, and I plan for them. Amazing things can be done on a rainy afternoon.

I live a solitary life, no romance, no one to care for, no one to listen to and to tell that she doesn't look fat in that dress. I wouldn't mind a little romance, but I guess it isn't a necessity.

There are things missing from this afternoon. I wish I was a better man. I wish I was a better artist. I wish I could astonish myself.

I have no friends here to visit with and bounce ideas with. I know a few answers, but I know a lot more questions. My ideas bounce back at me like a rubber ball.

There is a desperately important need to mine the mentality of the universe. Every moment spent not doing that is discarded treasure.


DB