A Diary Dec 11, 12, 2021

Saturday

I have a day off today. Happy for that.

Maybe internal dualism is not a good thing. “I’m in a good mood.” “I’m in a bad mood.”
And who says we ought to me happy? Being an alive human is not a happy situation. That was what The Denial of Death by Earnest Becker was all about. Much of it has to do with the maneuvers humans go through with their minds and bodies to avoid dealing with the hard fact that we are here only temporarily and that what it actually is is a meat machine eating itself to survive. Becker keeps returning to the notion that a belief in something overriding, the position formerly held by God, can provide some, well, I guess, comfort, respite from the horrible reality of it all.. A groundless faith that it ultimately is being held together and has some meaning way beyond the comprehension of the little part of it all that human life is. 
And one can’t will this. It has to come from “grace”.   

Dec 12
I work today actually all Sundays until March in Park Slope. Posing for a three hour painting class.
I sent T a text with a photo of the cat I am minding in Harlem. She knows this cat. No response. I certainly am learning about being broken hearted, and I kind of brought it on myself. I didn’t want to hurt her anymore. She said I was mean to her but old men can sometimes just get meaner and meaner and can’t help it at all. I can’t put us in that situation.

I thought I was very nice and loving to her always. Yes, I left to live in NYC, but I always loved and cared about T

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