Had to flop down to stop feeling so strained, and resoved to catch up on my backlog of magazines. Am about to embark on the truly delightful adventure of a book review by Anthony Lane entitled What's Eating Hannibal Lecter? and deeply I am giddy with the humor of the title alone. At the same time, and welded to this very spiritual glee, deeply I am appalled to be robbed of the full pleasure by the awareness of the misery being inflicted wholesale by men and women obsessed with bank accounts and the men and women whose own affairs very evidently matter more to them than stopping the monsterous suffering on and for those accounts. (Parse it! I dare you!) Still, do you know, will you let yourself retain, that without this awareness you are dead? The buddhas say that the true mind knows everything in the cosmos without leaving the house. There are flashes where the true mind breaks through the benighted one, and I have been bone honest with you here. Do you also realize I'm not a madwoman? That the true mind has it right and the joy of all beings inheres these pixels as you read?
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