When I feel suicidal, I feel at my best. These times, the cusp between existence and non-existence, reaffirm the importance and value of life. A fragment of life is infinitely better than death. One of the worst aspects of the despicable religions such as Christianity is a glorification of death, disguised as some sort of reward, perhaps to 'encourage' the weak, downtrodden and hopeless, that everything will 'be alright in the end'. Alas, the cruel and corrupt can often enjoy life without penalty, and a life of pain and servitude will have no rewards; though these sins and virtues are often forgotten by time relatively quickly. Prescient though they are to us sufferers, they are generally immaterial to society and the universe.
Death is an infinite end with no merits beyond this; though, of course, the dead can still affect out lives and contribute to the world and its people, as many people do today, from Socrates and Descartes, to Isaac Newton, William Blake, Beethoven, Vincent van Gogh, Freddie Mercury, John Hurt... and countless millions of others.
My brother visited today, briefly, on a trip to check on his house. He was released from prison, I think without a penalty other than curfew, his crime being conspiracy to cause a public nuisance; not so much a punishment for protesting, but for planned acts of public disruption, which to me seems reasonable. I love my brother dearly, we've always got on well, but I despise politics and avoid it. Politics is a logical extension of gossip, a social, rather than intellectual or informational, melee. Politics will drive any sensible person to senselessness and drive any humanitarian to egotism, to greed and self-interest. When he visits, my mother only ever talks about politics and the news, thus I can say and do nothing, and so spent the time working on the new frame for Love and Wi-Fi. I laid out the wood flat, back-side up, both lengths side by side, then power-planed it. This produced excellent results, my best use of this type of 'sandwiched' plain wood and skirting-type wood. This is definitely a tiny advancement. Like all of my work, things grow in tiny, tiny advancements.
Deb arrived, and I spoke about one sentence to Paul before we went out. My stomach was bad in the night again, but I felt better as we wandered around Sandbach, and I picked up a few gifts for birthdays and Christmas. Of course, I wish I could make more art, do more, but I will keep hammering as best I can. The rock of Sisyphus must be rolled slowly, pushed a grain each day, slowly forwards towards a summit, with rest and contemplation about the best angle of the roll, the best placement on the ultimate summit to catch the sun optimally.
