Anesthesia, a poetry kind of day

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The major part of the dental work is done. It was relaxing somehow, and it is, as written yesterday, always a tremendous relief to get these kinds of things handled. Rain falls on the city (makes me think of Verlaine: “Il pleure dans mon coeur/Comme il pleut sur la ville,/Quelle est cette langueur/Qui pénètre mon coeur?”).

My lower jaw was briefly paralyzed by anesthesia this morning but all is well and normal again. And I have plenty of skyr to keep me nourished.

When you spend time in genuinely nice, warm, giving company and experience the sheer generosity that people can be capable of, and want to reciprocate that generosity in whatever way you can, it does indeed make you question some of the impulses to spend time in the company of people who are less than in some way. It is true of the human condition and human nature that we can get used to anything, to the point that our standards are ground down to accepting the barest minimum. We start, as I discussed with a couple of people, to accept things that we would never before have accepted because the threshold of what is “normal” in the context of whatever it is we are doing has been lowered, slowly, almost imperceptibly. Instead of aiming for lofty traits and attributes, we lower the standards and start looking for a person who can “afford to buy a sandwich for himself” or “can lift a grocery bag unassisted”. It seems ridiculous because who would ever think of these things? Would my mother ever have thought to caution me, “Be sure you find someone who can afford a sandwich. Be sure you find someone who doesn’t snort her rent money up her nose. Be sure you find someone who can carry his own suitcase.” Such things would seem so basic (so entwined with the basic responsibilities people take on in their adult lives) that they would not need to be said. But maybe they should be said.

From Margit Mikes’s “Glassworks”: “In the frozen vice of apathy my heart is crushed.”

Soundtrack du jour: “Anesthesia” – Luna

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