1. Thoughts about beginning, about the arbitrary assignment of "1" to this entry, about the triteness of these observations, about their circularity, about whether it is probable that I will ever get out of this loop of meditations on origin and stop trying to re-express the first line of Mann's Joseph und seine Brüder.
2. Thoughts about German, about my inadequacy at speaking, reading, writing, understanding German, about the possible difference between my perception of my ability and the actual thing, that this difference might be, probably is a consequence of my lack of practice: the less certain my estimate of my german skills is, the more likely it is that they're worse than I think they are.
3. Thoughts about the ground of probability, about inferences based on facts, about the way absolute limits shape dispersed fields of possibility, about the reality of possibility and its simultaneous lack of reality.
4. Thoughts about whether I just heard a fire alarm go off, about whether the house is on fire, about what would happen were the house on fire, about the length of time it would take me to resolve to emerge from my room in the case of fire, to determine whether there was a fire, about whether I would be forced to jump from the window, about the height of that jump, about the difficulty of opening the window in the first place.
5. Memories of high school and removing the cover from a fire alarm accidentally during gym class in a show of bravado and being relieved that the actual alarm had not gone off but only a local warning signal which stopped when I replaced the cover. Memories of the pain of gym class, of the kid in my class who two years later was expelled from school...
6. Pause for a moment to reread what has been recorded, to think about the rhythm of these lists, of the linear cohesion and diversity of the content of these thoughts, thoughts about self-satisfaction and how foolish it is.
7. Memories of an earlier train of thought from today, in which I deliberated over the fine line between the worst vice and the greatest virtue. About whether most people wrestle with the recognition of their own inadequacies, about whether my satisfaction at this thought was ironic... Presently, whether I was conscious then of the recursion into which I was slipping.
8. Memories of reading Kierkegaard and squeezing myself down into the infinite and infinitessimal tubes of self-consciousness, seeing how many layers I could maintain. Thoughts about cabon nanotubes and that mysterious word beginning with "f" that describes the physical tube-structure I'm trying to remember. Fus--? Fusil--?
8. Exasperation at the stupidity of present thoughts. Another pause to reread.
9. Thoughts about scandal and the structure of scandal, about whether what the English Dominican Fathers translated as "shamefacedness" in the Summa is really a passion and not the act of a virtue? About how pride can be an act of daring that banishes shame. But perhaps this is called pertinacity and is not truly pride.
10. Feelings of pervasive drowsiness, in my fingers, in my diaphragm, in the back of my neck. Memories of a headache or the idea of a headache. When? Where? Perhaps it was a dream. Memories of the certainty of life in dreams that dissolves upon waking. Thoughts about the effects of inebriation on the certitude one has with regard to one's present state. Thoughts about the professions of happiness given by the drugged and how horrifying they are, how they disclose the danger of pleasure: that satisfaction in the flesh is a lie made possible only bye an extraordinary blindness of the mind.
11. Thoughts about sustaining thoughts, about the form of this record, about at what point pauses and edits become dishonest. The coldness of my feet, the feeling of my lower back, the general sense of sinking that accompanies drowsiness.
12. Pause to check facebook. Flash of a remembered thought, which then vanishes. Why I am not afraid of being like Charlie Kaufmann? No. The futility of trying to remember.
13. Hints of the lost thought. Memories of failed communication, of sadness, of anxiety. Memories fade away. Memories of Ken Burns documentaries, of the music in The Civil War. Thoughts about watching it again. Unlikely.