Attempt at capturing institutionalized madness one last time

I’m currently reading a copy of High Fidelity, a novel by Nick Hornsby. The guy makes lists. Lots of lists. Blake and I do our own, a Spring Jam brainstorm.

Here’s a percentage of things accomplished.

13/25 (52%) of our collective people to see were seen, including two celebrities (Nate Triplett and Emma Watson) (though not ascribed to see). 9/21 (42%) of tasks were completed. Throughout, naturally, things happened. Writing it down becomes some sort of suspicion. I’ve excused it in my own head long ago; right now I’m writing a biography for Blake. Girl bumming cigarettes on the back porch considers this memoirist experience awkward.

“Why make it up, the truth is too good? Besides, everyone wonders about the notebook. You’re not the first.”

Gerald speaks of a boss, who spoke on our generation at some commencement. I ask the metaphysician about ourselves in the context of writing down each others’ lives. It’s probably the best quote – half of it is his, half of it I blame on my own illegible handwriting.

“We suck – coddled, high expectations, and those are our [what looks like “contradictory perseverance of academic/nomadic panholding in this life,”] he said.

Living in the moment of intuition, being aware, happens twice and it is what I’ve been thinking about trying to get a Spring Jam post up. We’re sitting in A3, Ten Bears arrives. A hunger drives our instinctual actions – we find an outlet to eat. Someone in a sorority happens to be making cookies at the same time in accordance with our arrival. It goes down; somewhat of a twist on the usual recipe but nonetheless, a harmonious moment.

Interaction with new people, moments clicking like little keys spelling out next, next, do, do, do, (“It”) -- and we land ourselves at Mannings with a brigade of people I wanted to see. The police state came to us, on break, sitting around and catching glimpses of the Twins/Royals Game. No sign of the helicopter in the bar. It’s a moment as pure as the cold driven snow.

There’s a sentiment of a distinct awareness of living in the exact present moment there too. How did this come to be?

I chalked it up to instigation as Intuition met Quality that night, through the haze of all the layers and networks.