I have the world's worst cold. I pray I haven't infected anyone.
I'm home sick, less than 24 hours after coming home from PA. Being unexpectedly at home puts me in a strange, but not unfamiliar, frame of mind. I'm thinking about the trappings of my existence.
While I was in PA, I thought about writing a book. The book would be on GRID—-Greed, Recklessness, Indulgence, and Delusion—-and how these in the last 20 years have damaged U.S. culture and social relations. 'Indulgence' was a hard call; I considered 'Intolerance.' But I think the latter addresses another area of thought, distinct from GRID. The realm I hoped to address was that of the "comfortable." I fear I have become one of those.
I own too many things, I have eaten too much chocolate in the last week, there is too much paper clutter in my home, and I'm too fat. Each of these represents a dissonance between values and reality that does not settle my soul. The word "comfortable" above does not mean at peace.