Who you know, David Remnick/Lorin Stein/Mark Warren/Scott Stossel, diabetes, take a walk, have an onion

Saturday 8/31/24

An observation: It's convenient--easy--for people to say that who a person allows in their life is a reflection on how they're willing to be treated. A problem, though, is that there are so few good people, and, frankly, most people are horrible.

If one is horrible, and simple, and stupid, then there are more options in terms of people to have in one's life. That person isn't discerning in part because they don't even notice anything. They don't think that much.

Being "chill" often comes down, frankly, to being an idiot. It's a lot easier then, isn't it? And a lot easier when you have no standards, a bad memory, no goals, less expectations for adults to behave like adults. When you don't really care that much about anything. Eh, whatever.

The reality is that the better, more evolved person is faced with a decision of having certain people in their life who aren't so great and either knowing them, or knowing no one at all.

Is the latter feasible? How long can one go like that? I know, I know--everyone thinks they're wonderful, but they're not, and they're often very far removed from being so. I'm sure even David Remnick thinks he's a wonderful guy. Do you think David Remnick is a wonderful guy? Of course you don't. Lorin Stein probably thinks he's a wonderful guy. And also that highly stable, stellar example of a man, Mark Warren. To be fair to Scott Stossel, I feel like he consciously knows and thinks quite often about the cowardly, fraudulent, hollowed-out level of worm that he really is, which is a big part of the basis for his inner torments and guilt. As it should be. We talk about imposter syndrome. These are all imposters.

I had a biological grandfather who had diabetes, so this is often on my mind. I do not wish to have diabetes. I worry about this and will be looking further into what I can do better.

My great, great grandfather--not biologically--lived to be ninety-eight-years-old. He died of cancer and he was pissed when he was diagnosed, because his goal had been to get to 100.

In Readville, he was known as someone who was always walking. This and his habit of eating half an onion every day--he'd bite into it the same as an apple--were what he thought to be keys to his longevity. He spoke little English. As a boy, I would take walks with him in the woods.