So, yesterday people were “marching for science” – in the rain, mostly. It looked like the weather was raw and ghastly not just here, but also to the south of us. There obviously were areas of the country that had milder, kinder conditions. Not us, though. Mother Nature’s switch was whacking us good these past few days, an almost icy hand returning to remind us that discomfort is something Nature can dish out anytime.
This morning, in contrast, all is sunny, bright, a pastel blue of sky and nearly neon bright green of fresh new leaves dominating the palette. It’s warmer – a bit – too. Mother Nature says, “Who, me? Nasty? Oh no, not at all…” But we’ve got your number, lady, we live in New England. We know that any niceties are temporary.
Maybe that’s the fatalism that allowed Sicilian fishermen to put up with the shit they experience(d) in, say, Gloucester, which is about as far removed as possible from the climate they knew at home. But there they were – and are – fatalists, by religion. And here, remade as Americans (but actually as New Englanders), by nature. A Sicilian who emigrates to, say, California, will take his or her fatalism (the one pounded into her by religion and culture) to that sunny land, too. But it will be put on something else, not on nature. Same as home, same difference.
Anyway. Science march: I did not go, not interested.
Meanwhile, I seem to have lost my diamond earrings. I’ve turned the house upside down, and short of having inadvertently flushed them or that they’re stuck somehow in some deep recess of the sofa, they are gone. I’ve picked through the trash, the compost, all the upholstery, nada. We watched “Bosch” on Friday, I took them off while watching and clipped them together. I think I put them in the breast pocket of my fleece jacket – and it’s entirely possible they could have fallen out when I bent over. However, I’m not 150% sure. But yesterday morning, at any rate, they were nowhere to be found. Very annoying. They’re the “equivalent” of wedding / engagement rings (I don’t have those).
Last night we finally went out to dinner – that celebratory “W. got a new job – and W. finished his MIT course” dinner. We went to [venue], it was surprisingly good. Walked there in the cold, cold, cold, and walked home, as well.
Someone contacted me yesterday about my wetpaint.com site on Victoria (“Style Council”). Wetpaint is now a wiki.foundry or something, and the person who contacted me would like to be able to use the name (“victoria”). I tentatively said yes, but I’ll have to contact the site about it (release the name). Also, I have to get my content off.
In this morning’s meditation, Andy talked about rest and doing things that really bring you joy. I see birds outside, the little ones, hopping around in the leaf-thickening branches, and I wonder whether little birds do things because it brings them joy. It seems that way – not least because they seem so manic. But maybe what looks like mania is just a compressed, “fast” replay (or unspooling) of time. They have so little of it, compared to us; they don’t fuck around too much. Or rather: they do fuck around a lot, the “mania” is just Mother Nature’s harsh dictate to mate and reproduce, pronto! Fuck and procreate, or die. Oh, wait. Die you will anyway! Okay, so: reproduce anyway. Our reel of time gets stretched out into slo-mo; it must look like infinity to any little bird who could comprehend it. Because we think we have so much of it (time) (and maybe we’re bird-brained for it?), we spend it on marches, or losing (and searching for) earrings, or eating good food at restaurants, if we have the money.
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