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Bush, Obama, and Trump all failed when it came to Guantánamo. Like patriarchy, racism has caused millions to die and/or suffer. How have we let this come so far? What within our nature leaves space for this reality?

Horrifying. Americas racism is incredibly disturbing.

Reading both this and school texts now.

Lowkey flew through these pages. Compared to before at least. Not sure if these particular pages are more chill or if my brain is adapting to his writing.
Not sure, not sure 1 am capable enough to achieve that. I'll see as I continue reading, but I really like this book. I feel so human. I feel understood.

This 70 something page chapter centers largely on death.

"Won't last. Always passing, the stream of life which in the stream of life we trace is dearer than them all.
Enjoy a bath now: clean trough of water, cool enamel, the gentle tepid stream. This is my body." Some beautiful shit man

Keep taking breaks. A lot to take in also I'm more high each page. Trying to latch myself to these pages and not everything else around me. Maybe that will happen naturally through books. Or is that just crazy?

Reading this book feels similar to when I read "S" by
JJ Abram's. Read in January during a tough time emotionally due to relationships. This book offers me an entire new world to explore where I or anyone I know did not exist yet. There is a drowned body that is expected to wash up soon in this book. And Bloom is about to attend a funeral. I think about death often. Here, I'm free to think, but I feel scared

Joyce says if Ulysses is not worth reading then live isn't worth living. He writes about reincarnation and our god being in everything. Sometimes I feel strangely connected to people who have died. It makes me wonder what am I made up of. Who or what exists inside of me? Or is it in the air?
Something I breathe in? Idk

Joyce says if Ulysses is not worth reading then live isn't worth living. He writes about reincarnation and our god being in everything. Sometimes I feel strangely connected to people who have died. It makes me wonder what am I made up of. Who or what exists inside of me? Or is it in the air?
Something I breathe in? Idk

Have been logging the wrong book. Adjusting .