The past few days anything slender or strandlike outdoors has been coated white with bristling needles of frost. Just coated. White. Any branches, any bushes, any dead dry weeds or brush. White, like needles. Coated. It's like white needle frost.
Imagine every bare branch on a large spreading maple coated white. Every branch, tree after tree after tree. Brush in the ditch. Even wrought iron railings. And every, every, every tree. It's like this for miles around. White coating. White chocolate. White needle frost.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
There Are None So Blind
He was a longtime friend of mine. This was almost twenty years ago. He was an ardent man of the Left. And I remember the time I saw through him, through him and into the abyss with something akin to a sense of vertigo.
He was visiting me, and we were talking, as for many years we had been wont to do. And I happened to remark, just in passing, how I had noticed that people who were into ecology often used the word "planet." You know, in referring generally to the earth, and also sometimes in certain set phrases such as "save the planet."
I said, "Haven't you noticed that? How some people will often in connection with ecology use the word 'planet' a lot, or use phrases like 'saving the planet' or whatever?"
His brow furrowed, his face went pale, and with the air of one who is treading very, very carefully on eggshells, he said, "No, no I haven't."
And at that point I saw through him, saw through a transparent man, as if looking down from forty stories up. Because it was horrifically clear that I was witnessing a man who, for whatever reason, was engaging in a very, very careful act of ideological self-protection. Denying to himself, or denying to me, or denying to me in an attempt to deny to himself, something that for some unfathomable reason he dasn't admit to himself.
Ecology. "Save the planet." Haven't you noticed how they use the word "planet" a lot?
What odd chink in his armor had I accidentally struck, that he went all pale and felt driven to such transparent naked rationalization in the face of such an incidental point? What would he have risked, what would he have forfeited had he admitted to himself that yes, he had noticed?
He stood there, all pale and shaken, looking like a man who had just seen a ghost.
He was visiting me, and we were talking, as for many years we had been wont to do. And I happened to remark, just in passing, how I had noticed that people who were into ecology often used the word "planet." You know, in referring generally to the earth, and also sometimes in certain set phrases such as "save the planet."
I said, "Haven't you noticed that? How some people will often in connection with ecology use the word 'planet' a lot, or use phrases like 'saving the planet' or whatever?"
His brow furrowed, his face went pale, and with the air of one who is treading very, very carefully on eggshells, he said, "No, no I haven't."
And at that point I saw through him, saw through a transparent man, as if looking down from forty stories up. Because it was horrifically clear that I was witnessing a man who, for whatever reason, was engaging in a very, very careful act of ideological self-protection. Denying to himself, or denying to me, or denying to me in an attempt to deny to himself, something that for some unfathomable reason he dasn't admit to himself.
Ecology. "Save the planet." Haven't you noticed how they use the word "planet" a lot?
What odd chink in his armor had I accidentally struck, that he went all pale and felt driven to such transparent naked rationalization in the face of such an incidental point? What would he have risked, what would he have forfeited had he admitted to himself that yes, he had noticed?
He stood there, all pale and shaken, looking like a man who had just seen a ghost.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Pillows in Bed
Mind you, I've always been strictly a one-pillow man. One pillow in bed, a pillow beneath my head, and that's it.
Until several weeks ago, when my hip was acting up. Hurt at most angles to sleep on it. So, there were a few chairs around the house that had excess pillows lying on them, and one night I purloined some of these pillows and redistributed them to my bed, where lying on them relieved the pain of an acting-up hip.
My hip is feeling fine now. But I can't get rid of them. The pillows, I mean.
Those pillows have taken up permanent residence in my bed, where I will find myself of a night lying with my hip on a pillow. Or with a pillow back behind my thighs, propping my legs up. Or, when I'm lying on my side, with a pillow in between my knees.
I don't know how this situation got so out of control. Or how I so succumbed to pillow decadence. But, seeing as I'm sleeping more soundly, to the tune of another several hours a night, I suspect those pillows aren't going anywhere any time soon.
Until several weeks ago, when my hip was acting up. Hurt at most angles to sleep on it. So, there were a few chairs around the house that had excess pillows lying on them, and one night I purloined some of these pillows and redistributed them to my bed, where lying on them relieved the pain of an acting-up hip.
My hip is feeling fine now. But I can't get rid of them. The pillows, I mean.
Those pillows have taken up permanent residence in my bed, where I will find myself of a night lying with my hip on a pillow. Or with a pillow back behind my thighs, propping my legs up. Or, when I'm lying on my side, with a pillow in between my knees.
I don't know how this situation got so out of control. Or how I so succumbed to pillow decadence. But, seeing as I'm sleeping more soundly, to the tune of another several hours a night, I suspect those pillows aren't going anywhere any time soon.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Replacement Domino
Last summer I stumbled across a very nice set of dominoes in an antique store. Black dots on ivory tiles with maroon backs. Nothing earthshaking, but they were cheap, and nicer than usual, so I picked them up.
Not until I got home did I realize that one domino was missing from the set. (The four-two, in case you're wondering.) There were two extra double-blanks included with the set, for just such an eventuality, but I couldn't figure how to turn one of them into a four-two. So for the past six months that domino set has sat in a secluded corner, gathering dust.
Yesterday I was unexpectedly housebound due to a snowstorm. So at long last I tackled the job of turning a double-blank into a replacement four-two. Tried the solution I'd long been carrying in my head: make a paper stencil with the aid of a paper punch, tape it in place over the domino, and paint the dots with black enamel.
It didn't work.
No, the enamel ran and smeared beyond the confines of the stencil. I shoulda known better, I'm just not an arts and crafts type.
Then an idea struck me. I got a roll of black electrical tape, and with that paper punch I punched black domino-dots out of the electrical tape, carefully positioning each dot on the face of the domino. Took some careful positioning -- as well as almost losing a few sticky dots inside the paper punch -- but it worked. Very nicely.
Voila! A new four-two domino, and the set of dominoes is complete.
Not until I got home did I realize that one domino was missing from the set. (The four-two, in case you're wondering.) There were two extra double-blanks included with the set, for just such an eventuality, but I couldn't figure how to turn one of them into a four-two. So for the past six months that domino set has sat in a secluded corner, gathering dust.
Yesterday I was unexpectedly housebound due to a snowstorm. So at long last I tackled the job of turning a double-blank into a replacement four-two. Tried the solution I'd long been carrying in my head: make a paper stencil with the aid of a paper punch, tape it in place over the domino, and paint the dots with black enamel.
It didn't work.
No, the enamel ran and smeared beyond the confines of the stencil. I shoulda known better, I'm just not an arts and crafts type.
Then an idea struck me. I got a roll of black electrical tape, and with that paper punch I punched black domino-dots out of the electrical tape, carefully positioning each dot on the face of the domino. Took some careful positioning -- as well as almost losing a few sticky dots inside the paper punch -- but it worked. Very nicely.
Voila! A new four-two domino, and the set of dominoes is complete.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Oatmeal
When I was a kid, I never would've thought of eating oatmeal. Like something from a vanished prehistoric generation! Not that we ate other cereals for breakfast, my mother was too wise to allow that (one of the things she did do right). If we'd had cereal for breakfast at all, it would've been something like Quaker Oats. But we didn't, so we didn't.
In my student days, college, grad school, the perpetual poverty of student life, I ate oatmeal for breakfast. Every day. Because it was cheap and nutritious, and mainly because it was cheap. A handful of pocket change afforded me breakfast for a month. But after I abandoned academia, I gave up on oatmeal. Couldn't stand any more to eat what I'd had to eat for all those years.
Now that I'm getting old and grey, I find that I'm eating oatmeal again for breakfast. Every day. Because it's nutritious -- I no longer worry about cheap -- and it's compatible with my various ailments and health problems. Plus, I find in my dotage that there's something about the down-to-earth prehistoric simplicity of oatmeal that has grown on me. Much to my surprise, I enjoy the taste of oatmeal. I like it. I can easily devour a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, oatmeal laced with milled flax seed, and come up wanting more. More oatmeal.
My more youthful selves never would've believed it.
In my student days, college, grad school, the perpetual poverty of student life, I ate oatmeal for breakfast. Every day. Because it was cheap and nutritious, and mainly because it was cheap. A handful of pocket change afforded me breakfast for a month. But after I abandoned academia, I gave up on oatmeal. Couldn't stand any more to eat what I'd had to eat for all those years.
Now that I'm getting old and grey, I find that I'm eating oatmeal again for breakfast. Every day. Because it's nutritious -- I no longer worry about cheap -- and it's compatible with my various ailments and health problems. Plus, I find in my dotage that there's something about the down-to-earth prehistoric simplicity of oatmeal that has grown on me. Much to my surprise, I enjoy the taste of oatmeal. I like it. I can easily devour a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, oatmeal laced with milled flax seed, and come up wanting more. More oatmeal.
My more youthful selves never would've believed it.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Albert Camus
It was 50 years ago today -- January 4, 1960 -- that French writer Albert Camus died in a car accident. He was only 46.
I've always thought Camus was one of the good guys.
I've always thought Camus was one of the good guys.
Friday, January 1, 2010
2010
The sky didn't change. The world didn't change. But the calendar did.
2010. 1/1/10. Or 01/01/10, in that hideous new style, as if we didn't have the resources to format numerals in a world of computers, something I was quite well able to do in FORTRAN way back in the 1970s.
Time was, I stayed up on New Year's Eve at least till midnight. I was never much of a party type on New Year's Eve, but I did always make it a point of pride to stay up till midnight. But I must be getting older. Last night I went to bed early, and slept soundly all night long.
Today is a holiday in my schedule, and I intend to enjoy it as such. Rather weird to think of 2010 after a decade of double-noughts, or double-naughts, or double-oughts, or double-aughts. Then again, it was weird to think of 2000 after a lifetime of nineteen-hundreds.
2010. 1/1/10. Or 01/01/10, in that hideous new style, as if we didn't have the resources to format numerals in a world of computers, something I was quite well able to do in FORTRAN way back in the 1970s.
Time was, I stayed up on New Year's Eve at least till midnight. I was never much of a party type on New Year's Eve, but I did always make it a point of pride to stay up till midnight. But I must be getting older. Last night I went to bed early, and slept soundly all night long.
Today is a holiday in my schedule, and I intend to enjoy it as such. Rather weird to think of 2010 after a decade of double-noughts, or double-naughts, or double-oughts, or double-aughts. Then again, it was weird to think of 2000 after a lifetime of nineteen-hundreds.
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