June 19, 2004

Today I saw, diamond-keen, humankind’s extinction.

Today I laughed, shaking my head, at the vagaries of an election campaign.
Today I compared international petrol prices.
Today I nursed an attempted influenza headache, or maybe it was derived from attempting to close out background noise, or maybe the bus’s high-pitched shrieking gearshift had something to do with it.
Today I priced out a series of advertisements – not for pay, just for me.
Today I edited a friend’s dream, for the same reason.
Today I heard confirmation of the “Shoot them down” order I had always suspected had been quietly given.
Today I watched an ongoing tug-of-whale between North American natives and a government department, and an orca.
Today the building management tested fire alarms in my building. It takes seven minutes for the fire truck to arrive.
Today I stared up at the clouds attempting to rain, at the odd raindrops precipitating from the air on my face and skin but not able to make it all the way to the ground.
Today I took advantage of a small telescope set up inside the library, to view the peregrine falcons which have once again chosen to nest in the neighbouring skyscraper, as they have for the past decade.
Today I happened to catch televised glimpses of two impossibly rich persons’ bitter unhappiness.
Today I saw a young blonde hopeful discover that she had been chosen for her complete lack of talent, and turn her back on that reality to embrace and cling to her fleeting hours of fame.
Today I learned a friend’s father had died.
Today a lightbulb flashed and snapped and died under my hand.
Today I was the only rider on an extended, articulated bus.
Today I was shown a wild deer befriended by a farm family, and listened to another person planning his annual venison hunting trip.
Today I remembered at the last minute I had to by wine for a weekend social gathering of make-belief, a live-action murder mystery to which I have been invited. I have never been to such a thing before. I will assume I will not be the one to end up as the corpse.
Today I winced at yet another government commercial advocating image without mentioning anything of substance, realising how very well-made it was, and how very effective it would be.
Today I learned that batter-coated frozen French fries are a fresh vegetable.
Today I watched a World Cup qualifying match, and finally remembered to mention a truly remarkable curling match between Sweden and German I had kept meaning to mention. It had been as beautiful a display of sheer skill as ever I have seen.
Today I tried once again to copy as much of the transcriptions on my hard drive to the board I founded as I could in a very limited Internet window. One might think simple copying of already formatted text would not consume so very much time.
Today I broke a mug, first piece of clay or porcelain to break in my hands in decades.
Today (or maybe yesterday or the day before – what date is it again?) is the 32nd anniversary of the Watergate break-in.

All these – and how many more I forget now to mention, or which drifted across my mind at the time and immediately fled? Choosing to walk through the world with open eyes, and attempting to do so with honest eyes: it can be very easy to fall into despair. Those suffering from depression have long been shown to have a much more realistic view of the world around them than those said to be “normal”.

Beauty, joy, irony, humour are in the daily details.


Smile of the day:

Passengers waiting for a departing flight to board were somewhat alarmed when the pilots showed up wearing dark glasses and carrying white canes. But the gate crew seemed oblivious, so the passengers nervously boarded the airplane. It taxied out to the end of the runway, and revved up its engines for takeoff. The plane began to accelerate down the runway, going faster and faster, but the pilots did not pull up the nose and take off. In terror, the passengers began to scream and, abruptly, the plane
pulled up in a sharp climb.

In the cockpit, the co-pilot turns to the pilot and says "You know, Fred, one of these days they aren't going to scream ..."

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