Sunday, December 2, 2001

I’m sitting alone in my darkened bedroom, which is faintly illumined in the antiseptic, artificial glow of two monitors. This is like hospital lighting, only dimmer.

I’ve spent the weekend productively. Saturday morning was spent at the Common Grounds coffee house, discussing Pilgrim’s Progress with my book club and playing a spontaneous game of chess on the weathered chessboard that sat between us. It re-kindled my interest in the game, and as a result I spent most of Saturday afternoon rewriting a chess script in one of my mIRC bots, and playing chess with Esiah on #RO-World.com on irc.enterthegame.com. I was beaten in every game I played, which only steeled my resolve to improve my skills.

I didn’t go to church this morning. Instead, I did a bit of reading (Doc Smith and my Mom’s Europe diary), and gardened for a couple of hours. There’s always some chore to do, not that I mind.

Then, AWANA, where afterwards I bought a copy of Every Man’s Battle, a book about sexual temptation. It posits that, while men certainly can’t avoid sexual imagery, it is possible to rise above it, controlling one’s thought life. I certainly like the book so far.

Tomorrow: Work and Wine.

(Why can’t I summon poetic wordsmithing like this more often?)