Tuesday, July 21, 2020

Meditation 81

21 July 2020

Close is the time when you will forget all things; and close, too, the time when all will forget you. Having lost the restaurant's name, I put out a call to recollection. Memory by committee works, eventually. It was the Garrett. A waiter gave me a free beer after Joaquin Andujar of the beautiful name melted off the mound. One friend says the place was upstairs; I don’t remember that. Another says he was there for Game 6, but I don’t remember seeing him. Only John Lynch, kneeling on the floor, crucified by Bill Buckner’s error. I remember basketball games, but not where I saw them. A psychologist told me John Dean had more confidence than good memory. You can’t see the faces of Feds in camo in Portland. We identify the man with the broken hand by his NAVY sweatshirt; he approached them to talk, and one hit at him for the fences. Marcus’ period as emperor was dominated by confronting serious external threats to the boundaries and stability of the empire.” Authoritarian regimes pull their border agents in to the central cities, Timothy Snyder writes. In the name of Jesus, a Black woman throws black paint on the the yellow letters, BLM. A friend demands his family call him Jesus, and I wonder why they don't. John Lewis called his enemies “brother.” What is most sacred is counter-intuitive. A little boy asked to touch the scar on his head and Lewis knelt to offer it

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations. Oxford UP.

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