Monday March 4th 2013
Tomorrow's Anniversary contains an element I'll call
smokiness, rather than fog. It's not so much regret or sadness,
because I am older than I might once have been, and if there is such a
thing as wisdom, it amasses what might be called a "gentleness toward."
A phrase not easy to define in a manner that contains no suggestion of
emotion, or yearning, or hope, or wish, because gentleness toward as I
mean it can appear cruel or loving or dumb or even blind. Nor is
it really tender or caring. And most assuredly it is not easy to handle
in the way soft things are supposed to be, because it's where the ghosts
Better to picture it as the Christians
have, think of it as forgiveness, but unlike the Christians my understanding
of "gentleness toward" contains no hint of grace. And I guess this is
because I am godless, so who forgives who, becomes irrelevant. Which is why
'smokiness' is peripheral, at the edge of vision. That area the motor
vehicle department tests in eyesight before granting license to drive.
It's an uncertainty that makes a person turn his head, the better to see and
that way reveals his flaw. In "gentleness toward," however there is no
reason to turn the head. A highbrow, you might think, but I'd argue
it's much, much older than our two legs and tailless-ness.