Fractions - to the tune of "Bad Day."

               

  Lately, and even more today, I have felt stupid. All kinds of  stupid. I have felt the dull, hot, muggy kind of stupid, which is a feeling just like hot and cold, and I have felt the dumb, moronic, unchanging stupidity, which is attributed to character.

 And then I see the pansies, growing in their plotted patches. Their colors so disperse, and their shades so subtle; a molted mix of gradations, blues, periwinkles, violets and a rich purple just coming to its own. 

Or I stumble upon a blow, and find a shield has already been thrown around me.  

I must admit that I'm feeling a little artsy today, for I spent a few hours in the library. I skimmed the chapters of  a few books, but mostly I went to read poetry. A volume of poems concerning the ocean (The Eternal Sea), and a thinner, older 'folio' of 'ballads' depicting books. Ah, love! To top of my literary mood, I picked up a fine arts collection of  local origins, and thought of how, in just three or four months, my perception of my own abilities has changed. 

Perhaps that is why I feel stupid. Change distorts the frame you had constructed for the world. It changes the value of x, if you may, and if you forget that the value has changed you end up with the wrong answer. And then sit there feeling stupid. Wondering why. 

I finally mailed out the pictures for my visa, which is both relative and good news. I hope it gets there by Thursday, but I suppose it isn't likely to. My waiver is, to the best of my knowledge, winging its way to me as I type. Once it gets here it will be promptly sent out to its final home, as it should've been three weeks ago. More things to do, and more things to have done yesterday. Life is a frontier, nee? 

Inattentive

Last week was so full of good, challenging, solid thought that every impulse of my mind was towards sharing it with you. I finished The Wind is Howling, read excerpts from Nietzsche and Marx, and flipped around in C.S. Lewis' Surprised by Joy. But, as you are all well aware, there was no fruition to all this industry. And what ever profit we can hope was attained from such employment can now find no proof and share no gain. 

Other unrealized plans have fallen victim to this peculiar idleness. Mainly the entire absence of stamps from my office. How can I mail out pictures for my visa, or my stack of prayer letters, without postage? A journey to Wal-mart on Thursday resulted in unexpected photos, but none of the small sticky squares I was after. A similar experience on Saturday, only this time a the post office, meet another dismal end. Who could have foreseen that such a necessary establishment would close on a weekday? At any rate, I should be able to mail out my Visa photos on Monday, and I shall probably attempt another search for those evasive stamps as well. Until then, to pacify my poor conscious, I am uploading a pdf of my prayer letter (which will require you to click on it in order to see it proper). 

As a parting note, and in way of explanation, I have been listening to Mansfield Park all day, and I fear that it has rather colored my speech. But I have no worry on the account, it is sure to pass in nine or ten chapters.