glorycloud's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- bird wall clock It is still Wednesday in the flow of my personal being alive. I see from the wall clock in front of me it is going on Noon Time. The wall clock in front of me use to belong to my mother-in-law. It has birds on it. When the clock strikes hour time it makes a bird call. At Noon this clock will make the bird call of an owl. At 1 o'clock PM this clock will make the bird call of a northern mockingbird. To be honest all the bird calls sound the same coming from this old clock. My mother-in-law is into birds. I never knew people fed birds till I married into Carol's family. The people I grew up would never think of feeding birds. I am down in our basement writing on my lap top. I do not know why I am writing since I have nothing important to report. I am having one of those morning where I can not stay awake. I have been drinking coffee all morning, but feel still empty of life force. I have been reading some of the novel "Middlemarch" while wandering our basement. I might just here in the dark and dream today. I am burning a stick of incense to get me into a contemplative state. Sometimes it would be nice to get stoned and just drift. But I suppose hermits should stay sober. I could put on my street clothes and go someplace where there are people and noise. But I am not in the mood to go out into the world. I should just sit here and read "Middlemarch" by George Eliot. Time will flow by quietly and quickly. I could go to our local public library and see if there are any interesting used books to add to my book collection. I really do not need any more books. What I need to do is read what I have here in my cell. In front of me I have stacks of books. On the top of one stack of books I have another novel by George Eliot titled "Felix Holt, the Radical". I do not know if I have any other novels by George Eliot in my book collection. I do have a biography on the life of George Eliot titled "George Eliot: A Biography" by Rosemary Sprague. I remember when Carol and I were first married I read Eliot's novel "Adam Bede". George Eliot's real name was Mary Ann Evans (1819-1880). So much to read and so little time! It is 12:10 PM now. The mail arrived and there was nothing for me in the mail. I am expecting in the mail a book and a CD. Well I suppose I should close to sit in the dark or read something. I want to close my eyes and just dream. I still might get brave and go someplace. Maybe some wet rainy fresh air might cause me to wake-up and feel like a new man in Christ Jesus. One can always hope for a divine rebirth. music: Evangelista "Hello, Voyager" 12:39 p.m. - 2009-02-11 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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