18 May 2013
20 minute workout: 17 mn supine, 3 mn standing: plan to increase standing & upright dancing gradually, taking the pain, to see if I can strengthen legs sufficiently to reduce the pain.
Congee (fluffy and good), yegg and the beginning of Titus Andronicus wherein the noble Titus makes two enemies.
Dream: I was traveling with the kids up a highway much like the Northwest Highway northwest of Chicago, or el Camino Real in Silicon Valley: four lanes of heavy, slow traffic and many small shops. We shopped for a computer. I then was shirtless and alone a Costco or Tesco kind of shop, looking at DVDs but the shop clerk and I after some fireworks fell in love.
My Oxford Collected Works is a mess as a result of my Grand High Shakespeare ReRead and Massacree. The spine on one side separating from the pages, the pages stuck together and stained with congee. But that’s what books are for. Fortunately my edition of Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason is a much better bound Cambridge University paperback, for the Critique is the next Grand High Reread and Massacree. My favorite commentary on the Crtique, Adorno’s lectures, are also published as a quality paperback with excellent binding, in identical formats by Polity internationally and Stanford in the USA.
Able to give a well-received if impromptu talk this morning in the common room to several medical students on the patient as doctor Zero and a number of other topics. I was asked why I seemed so cheerful; it is hard to explain my sang-froid. There’s no point in getting depressed, I said, because there simply is no way of telling how long an individual prostate cancer sufferer has on earth.
Living until you are ninety nine, I said, is probably nonsense. Instead of a kindly and active grandfather, you are the scary guy at the Chinese wedding who smells like pee.
The Chilean poet Pablo Neruda was diagnosed circa the Chilean coup of 11 Sep 1973 with prostate cancer and died, some say of foul play, only 12 days after his friend Salvador Allende, the last truly constitutional leader of Chile, was probably assassinated. We never know when it’s time to go. We can take death seriously but with sang-froid.
Sen for the deid remeid is none,
Best is that we for dede dispone,
Eftir our deid that lif may we;
Timor mortis conturbat me.