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Dream  
 
Groping about in the cold and darkened theatre, he somehow manages to find an empty seat. The movie is in black and white and is in progress. It is an old, and badly deteriorated print; the screen shimmers in projected light.

On the screen appears the profile of a young man, a white, white man with white, white hair who is speaking. It is oratory, the words are great and contain the truth. Transfixed, his eyes are riveted on the figure, his ears strain for every word. In the pause before the final sentence, the figure slowly turns full face toward the audience. It is the marble bust of Aristotle.

'Who has been speaking these words then?', he wonders as he waits suspended.

The stoney lips move and the truth is spoken for the last time. From pupilless eyes emptiness streams forth-a blinding light. His mind folds in upon itself and the truth--he is alone, in the darkness with the silent, radiant image of time passed.
 
 
 
 
 
The truth is, after much furrowing of brow, I can't think of anything to say by way of preface to my blog. Along the way I wondered what it's purpose might be and maybe I should say a few words about that and would, except that I don't know what its purpose is, or could be, or should be. I only know that my clock is winding down and I'm so desperate to have my mind known that I could just spit! Maybe my blog could be about that. But how depressing and pretentious that could be! But hold on a second, maybe not—my therapist commented the other day how in late adulthood (AKA elder years), one is forced to deal with the sense of loss, all the time, it's always there, and it's painful, it takes great faith to live on even though one knows it's going to end and that whatever they accomplish, if anything, is not going to matter all that much. How does one find meaning or a sense of fulfillment in life knowing that it’s coming to an end? Psychologists have not written much about this if anything. It's sort of an unexamined part of adult life. It takes a lot of self-discipline to function in spite of this sense of loss—it's so easy to give up on the constant struggle, on life. A lot of people do—drinking, TV, drugs, electrosex, So, if you'll bear with me, let us examine this unexamined part of adult life.
 
 
 
 
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