Animus Mundi

I went out last night.  What was going to be a couple of people turned into a group event, intimacy replaced with public display, stories never completed, points never made.  One needed to be quick with a short and pithy jab delivered at high volume, never more than a couple of brief sentences.  New people constantly  arrived so that it seemed the party was always just beginning.  

When the crowd decided to move across the street to the next bar, I bounced.  My phone pinged.  Tennessee sent a text.  It was a phone photo of him, the car guy, and Little Hands, the waitress.  

"She's asking about you," he wrote.  

"Oh. . . I'm certain."

Another ping.  It was a sunset photo from Puerto Rico.  

It was neither late nor early.  The food had been disappointing, the drinks worse.  I sank into the couch and the quiet.  

I've never been good in social settings and have always shrunk away from crowds.  I much prefer intimacy.  

Before bed, I started watching "Poor Things."  The stilted, stylized acting reminded me of a Wes Anderson movie.  Just the delivery.  But I was tired and went to bed after half an hour or so.  To be continued. 

Bedtime.  I took a Tylenol and an Advil.  I don't remember moving all night.  It is good to dull the pain once in a while.  

Awhile/a while.  Interesting distinction there.  

Have you read Thomas Mann's "Magic Mountain"?  A sanatorium seems peaceful and appealing.  "Poor Things" reminded me of that, too.  A world apart, etc. 

I'm still not hitting on all cylinders.  I made some blunders last night when I was introduced to one of the "prominent men" in the community, as they say.  I was not enamored, I guess, and said something wrong.  I should not be speaking right now.  I should keep quiet.  I have had too much frivolity and have lost all purpose.  One needs a purpose.  Simply being is not enough.  

Unless, of course, one is in a sanatorium.  I desperately need a sanatorium.  The world is too much with me.  

I wrote something about the Anima Mundi yesterday.  It is not to be confused with the Spiritus Mundi.  That is what "they" say.  I had to go back to check, though, thinking I may have written Animus Mundi.  That, I believe, is a more accurate description of what I am feeling now.  

I may have coined a new phrase.  The Hostility of the World.  

The roosters are crowing LOUD in Puerto Rico.  So I am informed.  I will reply:

ANIMUS MUNDI!

I think that is boilerplate.  

A footnote here.  Jung describes animus as the unconscious masculine side of a woman and anima as the unconscious feminine side of a man.  Curious, that.  

And so. . . the photo may be illustrative.  Or not.  I'll leave it to you to connect the dots.  

(link)