spent the weekend at the cottage. not much to report. just basically lazed around. also hung out with caroline a bit... this interesting tidbit was the most revealing thought of the weekend...

deeds and doers

'I have a friend, or rather I had one, he's dead now; but he believed I existed.'

A compursion of the boy's face. 'Does it mean something I don't understand?'

'That we existed, he and I, and others like us.' MacMurrough shifted in his chair. A voice was wondering why he bothered with this; an innominate voice which was plausibly his own. 'You asked me earlier were there many of us about. The question for my friend was, were there any of us at all. The world would say that we did not exist, that only our actions, our habits, were real, which the world called our crimes or our sins. But Scrotes began to think that we did indeed exist. That we had a nature our own, which was not another's perverted or turned to sin. Our actions could not be crimes, he believed, because they were the expression of a nature, of an existence even. Which came first, he asked, the deed or the doer? And he began to answer that, for some, it was the doer.'
- jamie o'neill, at swim, two boys -