listening to American VI

Johnny sings in the background as I type this. A little sad, but in a good way.

Wondered why no one said anything about my last post, but it turns out it still hasn't found its way to Facebook. So much for the checking every couple of hours to update. Maybe I should copy and paste and forget the auto update. We'll give it another day and if it doesn't get any better, we'll do it the old-fashioned way.

My latest Netflix treat was a movie I've been meaning to watch for years but never quite got around to it: Harold and Maude. Heard all about it. Knew it's significance in pop culture. My favorite author even wrote a piece about it (sort of). But until tonight I'd never watched it. Such an odd film. I can't imagine it being made today, not by Hollywood anyway. And I can't imagine why it took me so long to see this film. Definitely my kind of flick. May watch it again before mailing it back. At least I have that luxury.

Confession: I started this post about over an hour ago but couldn't get it to go anywhere, so walked away for a bit. Didn't help. Thoughts are hard to come by tonight. Must have used up all my writing mojo last night. Some nights are not meant for writing and this seems to be one of them. Rather than beating myself up for not making it for the full time, I'm stopping now and going to bed and hoping my brain is in a better place tomorrow. But so you have something for taking the time to stop by, here's some more thoughts from Brother Merton, a confession of sorts and one that speaks to where I am tonight. Æ

I am sorry for having let myself become so stupid and so torpid, thinking more of myself than of what I owe to your Love - and I owe You everything. Forgive me for paying so little attention. Without compunction and deep sorrow, contemplation is likely to be nothing more than a kind of idolatry. How can I love You if I do not know who I am and who You are? And how can I know this without sorrow? Jesus, I no longer want to have anything to do with love that forgets that it was born in sorrow, and therefore forgets to be grateful. Otherwise I will only go on lying to You, and I want to be done with insincerity forever and forever.