Opening Day

Opening day of the baseball season at Wrigley Field: cold and raining. I cannot imagine the game being played. The odd thing is they open against the Milwaukee Brewers who have a domed stadium.

Wednesday’s weather is supposed to be the same. Golly, this is not good.

Published in: on March 31, 2008 at 11:06 am  Comments (2)  

Nothing compares

She’s gone to work. Boot Liquor radio blasts from the laptop speakers. I have coffee too, and let’s not forget the endless blank computer screens which demand to be filled with idle words. When words don’t come, My Name Is Red sits beside the computer waiting to be read.

What I don’t have is her though. That’s always a problem when she is away. Nothing fills my life as she does when I am with her.

Published in: on March 31, 2008 at 8:48 am  Leave a Comment  

Not distracted

Another morning when she sleeps in. I occasionally gaze at her face. She is young; I am old. Yet I feel I stand on the border between being old and what it felt like when I was young. She cannot possibly know how I feel about her, just what she means to me, not because she is young or lacking experience and sensitivity, but because I am old and I know I will be gone all too soon, burnt and spent like a candle burning past midnight into the early morning hour.

I try to avoid vacuous meditations about time and lost love or imagining too far into the future. My times with V are the precious moments of my life I would not trade for anything. This morning I feel the delicious sensations of possession and desire.

I slowly read my way into the Pamuk novel. I am reminded of Calvino. The narrative weaves itself into a philosophy that interests me. I should be distracted from her, but I am not.

Published in: on March 30, 2008 at 9:48 am  Leave a Comment  

Wanting her

She sleeps late. I, of course, cannot fall back to sleep.

My mind does not wander this morning, but stays fixed upon her. I want her more than I have ever wanted any woman. That I am sure of.

I content myself with a good book until she rises.

Published in: on March 29, 2008 at 9:24 am  Leave a Comment  

My Name Is Red

I just started reading Pamuk’s My Name Is Red. I am always excited when I start reading a novel I have looked forward to for a long time. I am only one chapter into it, but I have a feeling I won’t be disappointed.

Published in: on March 28, 2008 at 3:45 pm  Comments (2)  


A premonition of trouble crosses my mind that is all feeling rather than image. The scary part is it feels like trouble I cannot avoid or do anything about. A voice from inside me says, don’t worry, Lynn, everything will be, OK.


Published in: on March 28, 2008 at 12:16 pm  Comments (3)  

Great Plains

I flip through various web sites looking for articles on the Great Plains. I imagine riding across the Great Plains with V in late spring. She plays her music loud and sings to it in the car. Her diction charmingly changes from her everyday speech as she emphasizes certain words in the songs. I like her singing although she disparages it. As for me, I don’t sing because I can’t.

I look out the window at the seemingly endless prairie. I vanish in the Great Plains as I do when next to V.

Published in: on March 28, 2008 at 10:57 am  Leave a Comment  


V and I are driving to Montana in June. Actually, she will drive the whole way and back. The trip sounds similar to the journey in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. In expectation of our trip, I am tempted to read the book again.

My mind is drifting all over the place today: mathematics, journeys, novels, and most of all, spending this weekend with V. I never grow tired of being with V. In fact, the more I am with her the more I want her. It feels so good.

Published in: on March 28, 2008 at 10:21 am  Leave a Comment  

Baseball 2008

Noon. Cold. Drizzling snow. The baseball season started this week. Hard to believe. I will be wearing my parka to the Cubs game next Wednesday. The beer does not taste as good when you are freezing your ass off. But it’s baseball and I don’t care.

Published in: on March 27, 2008 at 12:50 pm  Comments (2)  

Reason, mathematics, and metaphor

We dream of reason because mathematical rigor sets the standard for it. Yet we compound mathematics via ever more complex metaphors. Historically, the growth rate of our mathematical metaphors has varied.

If I were a god, I would know which mathematical propositions are true or false regardless of the difficulty of their proofs. There would be no point in being a god if one did not know all the truths of mathematics and the metaphors on which they are based.

The dream of reason is large.

Published in: on March 26, 2008 at 1:36 pm  Leave a Comment  

Spinoza’s Ethics and category theory

I was thinking about category theory and Spinoza’s Ethics yesterday. What if one recast his Ethics in category theoretic terms? Would the notion go somewhere.

Published in: on March 26, 2008 at 12:28 pm  Comments (1)  


She sits at her desk. She feels a slight tingle. What she does not know is that its cause comes from the touch of my love for her.

Published in: on March 25, 2008 at 2:01 pm  Comments (2)  

Baseball 2008

This year is different. I have signed up for only two fantasy baseball leagues so far. The urge to do more entices me, but I recall those mornings last year when I woke extra early just to set my lineups for the day, etc.

I have tickets to the Cubs/Brewers game on April 2nd. I expect the weather to be miserable that day, but I cannot wait for baseball to start. Eight more days and I’ll be sitting in Wrigley Field.

Baseball is a dream akin to mathematics. Why it works its magic on me I cannot say. We find some things aesthetically pleasing, yet we cannot explain from whence the pleasure derives.

Published in: on March 25, 2008 at 1:52 pm  Leave a Comment  

Written slant

Now, I want to take Shakespeare’s sonnets from the book shelf. The prose leaves me mystified and unsatisfied. (Poetry is prose written slant.) He is Shakespeare. He must have meant to do it that way. Damn you, William.

Published in: on March 25, 2008 at 12:05 pm  Leave a Comment  

Postcard on jealousy

I say I won’t be jealous. She says good. Then she does something designed to set me wild. The day after, I say, fuck it, I was jealous. We will get drunk again together. I will be jealous of the glass she holds delicately in her hand if nothing else incites me. It is not what she does; it is the way she does it.

Published in: on March 25, 2008 at 11:57 am  Comments (2)  


I simply must find a new place to write other than here. The books create the problem. Proust and Tolstoy sit too close by. The mathematics texts call to me. My library, the jumbled mess that it is, seduces me. Books are sexy.

Published in: on March 25, 2008 at 11:49 am  Comments (3)  

Good morning

Here is the crazy part. I see us married.

I get out of bed first. She sneaks up behind me while I am measuring coffee into the coffee maker basket, puts her arms around me, and lays her head against my shoulders. Good morning, she says.

Is there any wonder why I see us married?

Published in: on March 25, 2008 at 11:35 am  Leave a Comment  


She ate popcorn for breakfast. That sounds like me on a good morning. On a typical morning, I have coffee and cigarettes. This morning, I am spicing it up with tortilla chips.

Published in: on March 25, 2008 at 11:20 am  Comments (3)  

Dreams and worlds

All day I have been daydreaming I am at parties where Proust moves through the rooms. I wonder if that is what Nabokov meant about a writer creating a world we feel we live in. At any rate, it has not been my day to write. Except for those idle daydreams, I am stuck in this world, something I was not inspired to think about let alone write about. Soon, I will be with V. That is another entirely different kind of magnificent dream and world combined.

Published in: on March 24, 2008 at 4:57 pm  Leave a Comment  

Easter weekend 2008

I spent a very special weekend with V. My time with her gets better each time I am with her. Her love seems a miracle.

Let’s just say we got out of town and away from everyone this weekend. That in itself delighted me. Sleeping late, lounging all day in pajama’s even when going out for fast food, a few quiet minutes at church, a leisurely pub crawl in the evening, and watching favorite videos corresponded to exactly what I hoped the weekend would be. These are the things people do not see. They invent narratives for their own enjoyment. Some of the narratives are unkind and ungenerous, such is the case with enjoyment. They transform us into something in their own minds we are not nor ever could be given our natures.

I circle back to this claim: I would not trade my happiness with V for anything. She gives me everything I have ever wanted.

Published in: on March 24, 2008 at 8:35 am  Leave a Comment  


I am spending the weekend in the suburbs with V.  I forget how quiet the suburbs are.  I am about to go to Easter services with V at the Lutheran church a few blocks away.  This ought to be interesting.

Published in: on March 22, 2008 at 4:57 pm  Comments (2)  

Good manners

I keep telling myself, be affable, Lynn. Even though good manners is the least of the virtues, that is the one everybody appreciates the most.

Still, I seethe from within. Right, be affable, Lynn, even if it profits you none.

Published in: on March 21, 2008 at 12:50 pm  Comments (2)  

White water

I drift on a placid river. The white water lies immediately ahead. I ask myself why I thought I could do this. Too late. I paddle as best I can. Survive, I tell myself.

Published in: on March 21, 2008 at 12:09 pm  Leave a Comment  

A dot

It’s Good Friday; yet I do not believe in gods. You might think not believing is the easiest thing in the world to do. Trust me, it is not. What you give up by not believing is that someone loves us all.

I am at Elizabeth Bishop’s gas station somewhere along the highway in Canada. She sees what I cannot. Am I blind or is she deluded?

I negate the Euclidean parallel axiom. No lines intersect or they all intersect. The world remains as consistent as it ever was no matter what way I think. My demand for consistency outweighs my demand for a commensurate truing with reality. Is that just me, or do others feel that way sometimes?

My enemies cannot hurt me. Only the ones I love can do that. Consistency and reality blur, then, as if seen from a mountain top overlooking the desert, they cohere and become sharp. I am a dot on the horizon walking through that desert.

Published in: on March 21, 2008 at 11:53 am  Leave a Comment  


There is a little part of my madness for mathematics I think I understand. I have kept it a secret and have not told a soul.

I look with my mind’s eye into a mirror each day. On those days when the image is too ugly and odious, I turn to something that might validate a better image of myself. Let us say I pluck a book of mathematics from the heap lying about my place. I turn to the page where I last dropped it in boredom. I read the next theorem. I have forgotten all the previous propositions that would aid my understanding of it. I idly flip through the pages trying to recall. After several days, I do recall. I return to the theorem I was pondering. The proof makes sense to me. How I would do on a quiz I do not know, but still the theorem makes sense to me. The next day, the image of myself captured by my mind’s eye looks more handsome even though I still have the same warts.

My life is a half-read text. I drop it in boredom. I pick it up later on. The book once reread seems a mystery. There all these questions. Did I really think that way back when? Who was I then to think those things? Will I ever get an inkling about who I am and why I am here instead of someplace else in some other time, or even why I am at all? Why do I hurt as badly as I do so that I must retreat in my paltry way to some abstract and abstruse world?

But most of all I beg, “please, somebody hold me and tell me everything will be OK. Your life has meaning even though you may not understand exactly what that meaning is.”

Published in: on March 21, 2008 at 11:33 am  Comments (1)