durabilities

a few weeks ago I got a new oak desk chair. it's like almost ninety years old or some shit. well, except for those dimestore plastic wheels. but my back hasn't hurt since. and the wood, it's so old, so solid. my stout thrown throne.

student drafts move forward. slowly, but forward and on track.

we drank a Chimay bomber with dinner, the red label. I have forgotten the beauty of simple, focused craftsmanship. Surely the whole monkish exclusion thing is trumped up, a wee bit marketable, but the taste is still something special. pure, fresh. clean, almost.

today I read Derrida's eulogy that he read at Levinas's funeral: been a long, long time since I've had a reaction as I did to the written word. I am reminded, at each syntactic turn, that things are not nearly as bad as they initially seem. this is inarticulate. this is all I can muster now. but neural pathways were blazed, hearts were progressively altered. doorways, openings. clearings.