OK, i'm fucking royally with the time sequence, and posting twice in succession which you, curious reader, will no doubt ponder over. However, beblogged it must be, what happened last thurs. There was a book sale on. MC (oh, it reappears!) and I went. I guess one could almost call it a date, to the extent that it was outside of an immediate classroom situation. And oh, was it pleasant. Again, the sense of having made a connection sparkled in my brain, with the result that I veritably twilighted.
Moreover, i was exasperated from the previous evening's now realized as misinterpreted activities, and it buoyed me to the extent that its happening seemed providential, and i mean that grave term gravely.
Anyhoo, its a curious feature of the human animal, that it can, lying in a darkened room with the scurl of traffic without, be transported in transports, in mental imagery of other human animals, setting the heart aflutter while refraining from over-using the refrain O Leben, O Moeglichkeiten!, and to the martian, or indeed the mere moon person, there is nothing doing. But could i martial all my forces, and engage in the war of love, and win a prelude to a marital exuberance? And indeed, what does Wittgenstein impress upon us if not that we can represent what is not along with what is not, that is, possibilities. Wir machen uns bilder der tatsachen. But is it a tatsache, for its certainly not a sachverhalte, complex being the potential love, and if it be, will it ever be revealed in an adeaquatio, in a glorious correspondance between the two barely aforementioned animals?, between hoped for thought and conglomeration of brain chemistries?