Just wrote mom

whew.

That sucked. Not as much as the phone call I'll inevitably make, once the phone is turned on again. Once Ma Bell gets her two hundred.

It was good I had a game plan--worked it out with the therapist. It was mostly a good one.

I'm afraid I wasn't contrite enough. Oh well, how much can you grovel before it becomes repetitive.

And I no longer feel bad that I have to appologize for something she essentially started. But I did take it too far.

It does show me one thing: our relationship must not be so tight if I can go so long without calling. To be honest, except for the last few days, I didn't think of it at all.

Which says something. Not to get over dramatic, but it's kind of like being an orphan--not relating to either parent.

The sibs have interesting relations with them. Sister always felt close to dad. Brother with mom. Sister fought Mom, but through that fighting, they grew closer. Brother hated dad and I sometimes wonder if he's gotten over it (bronther, not dad. Dad's dead.)

Me, I never understood either one.

Hobo Shorts

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