Two regions named Iberia

Raw hard hot sweet potatoes had been a good phrase. [A] potassium rich potato repast to grace my palate and plate had been a good phrase, but the draft of the email as a whole had a forced, uninspired feel, so I leave it a draft, then erase the draft, then look up etymology of ‘rehearse.’

Came across african american enclave of tweeters: yt , which I couldn’t figure out from context, means white. Came across classics-minded enclave, then a humor-minded group. Olivine was a word I looked up: a very green stone or mineral that weathers easily. (Where had you come across the word “weathers” recently? Herman Melville’s novel Isreal Potter was where I last came across this frequently occurring word.) One tries to read how the fact that olivine readily weathers makes some believe it can help extract carbon from the atmosphere, but your gaze down the page is soon impeded and thwarted by a barrier of equations that resemble fierce rapids.

Tab open to the far left is free version of Biographia Literaria, which will run you 70 dollars new in hardcopy on Amazon, as the tab beside it discloses, but I’m not sure I can read it in this format. Coleridge had made the distinction between poetic thoughts and thoughts that were merely rendered into poetry, leading me to wonder — had I ever had a “poetic thought”? (I had thoughts that were more generally like the opposite: thoughts that were acutely conscious of poetry’s absence. Abysmal jokey thoughts.) Weathered — word brought to mind, in a positive connotation, a couple elderly Asian folk who’d come into the store recently, Vietnamese and Japanese I would guess, who seemed to me uniquely well aged, not in the sense of being “well preserved”, not old people who looked young, but like rock that had been exposed to weather rather than wood, which would rot, or metal, which would rust, or something fabricated, which would look sad in disuse, and more durable than olivine. (The anti-poetry, the anti-philosophy, the anti-scholarship, the anti-religiousness and professionalism with which I’ve been grafted, “if only the boil could only be lanced”…. Perhaps it’s a bit as if Kafka’s father had undertaken to write, I will think.)

Read some more of “black twitter” and then something I’d written, the tedious slowness of which reminded me for the first time of the slowness I would exhibit in other work environments, too much caution and overthinking, which is fearfulness, “the boil” — too much care where it isn’t needed and too little where it really was (for example, in parsing ancient greek verbs). (Something similar: Bravado and thundering was an unlimited resource, but real courage?) Looking up obnubilate — covered or darkened as with a cloud. Recap: Did I learn anything today? That there were two regions named Iberia: the well-known peninsula, where Spain and Portugal may be found, and a region in the country of Georgia, lesser known. Recap: Did I see anything out of the ordinary today? Actually yes, a gosling. Bunch of geese near the underside of the 14th street bridge complex and these two adults in particular standing by this small awkward fuzzy thing.

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