I spent time with young people this week whereas I don't normally see anyone because I live at home unemployed. Two friends born under Aquarius enjoy having birthday parties, and they have a lot of friends.

I have lamented on and off about my relationships with my peers in my writing and in life. As I've gotten older I do enjoy the company ov others less, have a low tolerance or little interest in the methods of people around me, and find when we do have commonalities, the way of speaking about them can suddenly reduce their importance.

Any previously ascribed meaning suddenly seems disorganized, common, and redundant.  I try to let it lie, let myself lie through - my discomfort or ideals shouldn't champion our conversations - ah, but they really do. For the accusatory, it might be because people and especially the young with less concealment, find the activity of conversation to take place in a demonstrative field, and just how much they have discovered + thought, and will think again, is the priority and even the very objective of speaking. (These are Measurements)

But words fall out quickly, like we imagine a small child whose fresh experiences are so innumerable he reports on them nearly instantaneously, struck with emotion and sensitivities the like of which never seemed possible seconds before. With older people I feel completely different - often feel radiance and joy from their ideas that have been salted and shaped by time. And I appreciate the pacing and decisiveness of their commentary. 

 But let's not be mistaken. I did enjoy the mirth of the young people I saw this week. Yes, I see people in a generally renewed spirit and state of mind and think January has done it again. January is one of the most fantastic months. At a quarter to seven on Sunday evening, I make a thinner drip coffee on the watery side - purposely unideal -because A stronger coffee is not necessary at this hour.