And by that, i mean, the shorts from a cigarette. Not questionably clean boxers.
Trying to clean.
At times, it's overwhelming. But one thing I learned from zen master Grass--clean to clear your mind.
Who knows, a day late and a dollar short I may actually get something done and turned in.
This week, on the scholastic front--and I suppose most others--my performance has been weak.
Though, I'm truly shocked that I don't feel worse, given that I drank almost five liters of beer.
I'm slow to forgive, slower yet to apologize, slowest to admit my faults; which are myriad.
I too know what it is to lie, cheat, steal, the criminal, the late-knight onanist, the fiend not wanting. I too have seen the gates of hell with my own eyes, and know I deserve it.
But for all that, I say with Calvin, that it is by grace of god that I am allowed a moment in this fallen world.
Grace, it seems a theme lately.
Weintraub (also a theme) always admired Burke's formulation "the unbought grace of life", which seemed to me always a tautology. But Zizek says that there-in lies profound truth.
Well, the spirit is a bone
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