Chaff
This afternoon had one of those confrontational conversations I usually manage to avoid: a neighbor upset about the disposition of certain items on the property, got bellicose and made threats of questionable enforceability to shut down my wedding reception for lack of proper permits. After I made a concession he calmed down and became friendly, in an aggressive sort of way.
The stupidity of conversations you end up replaying in your head for hours: all you want is to stop them. Lucky I had to make a three-hour drive over the mountains anyway and could crank my new cheap speakers. When you’re upset you’re thrown back on your spiritual resources, and apparently my spiritual resources are still: dharma, dharma, dharma: mind precedes all things, dominates all things, creates all things. Anyway that’s what came up. Sometimes you forget.
It had been a disappointing day anyway, because I spent most of it writing a long blog post on The Program Era and American publishing which left me feeling worse than when I’d started. Oh the tedium: I’ll never write a litblog.
maybe you should write a letter instead.
