What should I write about? Work? Missed chances at the work I want? Love? Feelings that are love but not love? (where is our Linnaeus for Love?) Music? Children? Broken Families? Vertigo? Why my question is always what I want and how selfish that seems?

I read (need a writing on the variations between reading and skimming. This was a 7 with 10 meaning ‘read, digest, contemplate’ and 1 means look at the section/chapter titles) an article in the NYRB on memory that got me wondering why the particulars of what I do remember. I have a recurring/persistent memory of Gerbil (Jamil) from my god-forsaken fraternity days and a conversation about what we really want. He advocated (as people in the 1980’s did) that everything came down to what you as the individual want for yourself. Charity and Love were sought because they made you feel good about you. I cannot deny that this is logically impossible (as I admitted at the time). But I don’t think it is reality. I chalk that up to faith. The best definition of faith is something that comes in that moment when you know truth but don’t have a definitive argument on your side.


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