Music:Edgar Alan Poe's "The Raven," recited by Christopher Walken.
a dissertation of unimaginable eloquence!
These past few weeks, I have been thinking a lot before bed. My usual insomnia consists of God, a/sex/uality, people whom I owe words and time, and the way family is supposed to interface -- with culture, with me -- and fail to -- generation gaps, me -- but mine is so multiply interfaced it's rather inescapable.
As for God, I learned in my literature class that, the Seven Deadly Sins withstanding, many Rennaissance thinkers regarded despair as the worst of sins: in the process of arrogating that you are so bad that nothing can save you, one denies the power of grace. Which is just fucking stupid. Lies and calumny. It was the pithiest thing I'd processed in months, and I have been listening to my parents funnel about GPAs, graduate school, studying abroad, and resumes during those months.
I have started watching Dead Like Me and Torchwood to try and shake some inspiration out of my brain, because not even Paradise Lost and Gawain really seem to be working these days. S.A.D. is a hard place, school is a bag of rocks.
I had planned to write a longer, somewhat more earnest, and elaborate Livejournal entry once I woke up from my nap today, but cherry_rain and 4 pages of kittons commercialbreaked me (no i dont know what that means either) with these messages: