"I see," said Spartacus. "You're all me. That's handy.."
It was indeed handy for some. What it wasn't was interesting.
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By way of explanation, I think the above was written when I gave up trying to write my opinion on whatever I was trying to blog about and made an attempt at (extremely) short fiction. Mainly a demonstration on how my brain doesn't work after I pass a certain level of sleepiness.
I took a notion today to try blogging from work. Sh, don't tell anyone. Anyway, I forget what I wanted to talk about, because I couldn't log in. Like, I could, I remembered my Google password. But because it was an "unfamiliar device" I was supposed to give them an authorization code, which they'd send to my cell, which is dormant now. I got a code through email, but somehow they said they still couldn't verify it was me.
So, I mean, I guess if anyone wants to take over this blog and somehow gets hold of my password, they're still out of luck.
I was out walking today after breakfast and a quick trip to the library. This was apparently around the time it became clear that Biden had enough states to take the presidency and it was all over but the shouting.
Then, of course, the shouting. Well, the cheering, really. A lot of hooting, honking of car horns, some people hitting pots with spoons. And you know what? Go for it. I'm not going to object to anyone feeling joy at the tail end of a year that seems to have become an expletive.
That said, if I never again encounter the sanctimony of so much of what came to be the anti-Trump campaign it will be too soon. It's been a very vapid and substance-free autumn.
Also, <i>Saturday Night Live</i>, you have, what, ninety cast members now? Get one of them to do Biden for you. Jim Carrey shows no sign of having any interest in it.
This evening after work I took the bus home, but rode it a ways past my stop. I went to a coffee shop on the eastern edge of the city. It's still mostly takeout. I got a little cookie and a cup of coffee. From there I headed to the park.
In the park I sat on a bench by the fountain, which hasn't actually had water flowing through it in a while but still looks purdy. I chewed on the cookie, enjoyed the coffee, and read my book. It's an anthology of short stories about witches. Most of the stories I've read in it haven't really grabbed me. Too much worldbuilding and not enough impressionism, but that's just me.
But it didn't matter. With the clocks turned back it was the dark of night by this time. This is a nice little park, a playground and lawn at the base of a long trail. People tend to be socially distanced because it's New England. On the other hand a lot of denizens are maskless. Combined with the scattered lights in the darkness that gives it an otherworldly feel, or more aptly an outside-of-time one. Hanging out there brings a dreamy excitement to the day.
In the past few days I've noticed some places around town that are boarded up. Not closed. These businesses, for the most part, are still operating. But there's a protective layer of lumber around the buildings.
This is election-related, of course. A huge number of places in New York and DC have similar precautions in place. Election-related violence is a bad sign all around, but there we are.
This is the original of a song that's been through a few different versions. Danny Kaye sang it as Hans Christian Andersen. Charles Aznavour did a duet of it with Robin on The Muppet Show.
It's lovely, of course. But what is it? Projection? Metaphor? An actual inchworm won't actually go far with arithmetic. I only point this out so you won't misdirect your anger.
Lynn Garland, Loesser's then-wife, does a nice job on the backing vocals.
