It was 107 F yesterday, beating the old record for that date, of 104 F. By the way I wish we were on the metric system. The country was just too full of half-wit trash to make the transition. I remember an interview with a local "cowboy". Who cares what a senile cowpoke thinks? Oh well, life, such as it is in this global insane asylum, goes on. The beat goes on, the heat goes on, and the beep goes on. I am re-reading a biography of Philip K. Dick and I'm re-reading Martin Gardner's "Fads and Fallacies in the Name of Science", an excellent book that should be in every school library.
And I'm still in the second surviving volume of my journal, noting what I thought and felt back in late 1989, what I experienced, challenges I faced, enthusiasms I had at that time, and so forth. Journal keeping was a brilliant idea. Someone once advised me to stop, and "live in the moment", or some such nonsense. I knew better than to do that, but I did stop, for a period of years, at a time when I really did want to live in the moment. At that time it was appropriate. And yet I regret not having a detailed record of those years. I resumed the journal in August of 2017. At least I have that, and I will continue as long as I'm able. I have three very nice fountain pens, one vintage, that I use for my journal. One particular volume is very important, and I read through it every year, so that I can relive a very magical period. If I could live in the past, that's where it would be, from September 28th 2011 to late November of 2017. I'd make it an endless loop. I can approximate an experience like that by reading journal entries in "real time", so to speak. Everything after that is hollow. The future holds nothing of consequence. Fuck the future. It's empty.
No comments:
Post a Comment